


The White Orchid

by paraduxks



Series: white orchid verse [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Are you intrigued yet?, Child Abuse, Coming of Age, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Comedy, Death of a Parent, Drug Dealing, Eating Disorders, F/F, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Internalized Homophobia, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Teen Pregnancy, Theft, Underage Drinking, Violence, and now for the tags, boy these tags sure are all over the place, fuck it i'll add as i go, high school? ish?, if holes and oitnb had a child, in the most fucked up way, its pretty fucked up but they do like each other so...?, juvenile delinquents, set in the 80s, trigger warnings will be added at the start of each chapter, yo she ra fandom why did i just have to create the Catra & Lonnie and Lonnie & Scorpia tags, you really doin my girls dirty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraduxks/pseuds/paraduxks
Summary: As it turned out, getting arrested was the best thing that ever happened to Catra Driluth.





	1. | before | 1979 |

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for this chapter: car crashes, death

**_Before_ **

* * *

 

**_1979_ **

* * *

 

Catra's seventh birthday fell on a Sunday, so she didn't get to have a party. Instead, she went to church with her mama. She wore a pale pink dress with a skirt that flew up in the air when she spun around, and her mama braided her hair all nice and neat. Catra would later develop a distaste for such things. Back then, all she worried about was being cold at church. Her birthday was three days before Halloween, which meant it would be chilly outside.

Catra didn't wear a coat that day. Even though her mother had insisted upon it, she refused. She wanted the entire world to see her dress. It was restrictive in the arms and too small in the waist, but to Catra, wearing that dress was the same as being supreme leader of Brooklyn. She had never seen something so fancy, and couldn't remember a time when she got to wear something so nice. All her clothes came from thrift stores or the Goodwill, and she could count on her fingers how many were new.

It was a special occasion, so she went cold.

When she and her mother arrived at their church, Catra felt a slight bit nervous. Goosebumps tore across her skin as soon as she got out of the car. She wanted to hug herself, stick her fingers under her arms- But doing so would be an admission that she was cold. And if she admitted that she was cold, mama might make her put on a jacket. And then nobody would be able to see her dress.

She was proven right almost as soon as they walked in the door. Catra was one of the youngest people to go to this particular church. It was the place where grandmothers and the parents of twenty-somethings who had left them behind went to pray. While her mother spoke with her church friends before mass began, every old lady in the place told Catra what a lovely dress she was wearing. She preened at every compliment, and returned every smile with one of her own. She was at the height of fame- for a seven year old.

Dealing with her newfound popularity, Catra found it near impossible to sit still. The movement of her skirt was fascinating, and she spent a great deal of time playing with them. She had one foot on the pew, her knee up by her shoulder, as she ran her fingers over the hem of the dress.

“That’s not how a lady sits,” Her mama whispered through clenched teeth. Catra nodded, and stomped her foot down to the ground. She was still slouching, though, and still squirmed a little in her seat. Her mother groaned as loudly as she could without causing a disruption.

“Can you try and sit still, honey?” Her mother hissed.

“Okay!” Catra said, attracting dirty looks galore. She didn't notice, though. She bit her bottom lip and sat on her hands, even though it hurt her wrists. She sat still for the rest of mass.

During the car ride home, her mama told her not to move around so much, or something bad might happen.

“Like what?” Catra asked. She didn't understand what was so awful about playing with her skirts. It was fun for her, and if she was doing it really, really quiet, none of the older people would hear it! They were gray and crinkled and remembered the first world war! More than half of them must’ve been deaf, or at least well on their way!

“You could distract the pastor. Or distract someone else from their worship,” Her mother said.

“But they can't hear me! I’m invisible to the ears!” Catra said, and jumped up in the backseat.

“Catra, please put on your seatbelt. At least sit down.” She huffed, and sat down, crossing her arms. It wasn't long before she laid down across the backseat and tried to touch the ceiling with her feet.

“Mama, look!” She shouted when she finally did. She saw her mother’s eyes in the mirror, and giggled at how serious she looked. “You look funny.”

“Oh?” Her mother said, and glanced over her shoulder. She scrunched up her face, smiling, and Catra laughed even harder.

“That’s so funny, Mama!”

Catra wouldn't remember it, but that moment was the first time her life switched tracks. While her mother was looking back at her, she was not paying attention to the road. Her mother didn't notice a red light, and someone else didn't brake fast enough. Catra was still laughing when the other car crashed into theirs, angled in precisely the right way to kill both drivers. 

Catra flew from her spot in the backseat and slammed into the front seats. The car spun backwards. She flew headlong into the car door, then slammed into the front seat. Her body ping-ponged around the car. Blood and bruises sprang to her skin, though she wouldn't notice until later. Her legs became trapped under the backseat, and her shoulder wedged between the front seat and the door. Finally, the car spun to a stop. Catra scrunched her eyes up tight, and allowed herself to breathe. The cold air may as well have been a razor down her throat.

The pain hit her as a wave might, dragging her under and beating her body against the ocean floor. She couldn't help but scream. Every single nerve was on fire. In retrospect, the equilibrium of her pain was for the best.

Her eyes slowly ratcheted open. As soon as they did, she wanted to close them again. Broken glass was strewn throughout the car, and covered her body like snow. With immense effort, she sat up. Every tiny motion was accompanied by the sounds of glass hitting against glass. Her head spun with the effort of remaining upright. It took everything she had to maintain consciousness.

“Mama?” She asked. Speaking was like swallowing a handful of gravel. Silence strung out, functioning as both punctuation and an answer. Catra stayed frozen. She didn't dare move a muscle, lest she create noise and miss what her mother would say. In that moment, she still had hope.

“Please say something, Mama,” She begged. Her mama stayed quiet. “Mama?”

The door opened behind her. Her heart flew into her throat, and her voice turned to a whimper. Catra lurched backwards, her head banging against the edge of the car. Glass pricked at her through the dress, and a wretched sound escaped her throat. But she was only seven, so she didn't know any better.

“Hey, hey, yo, there’s a fucking kid in here!” It didn't even register that there was an adult present until someone lifted her out of the car.

“No!” She cried, shifting. “No, please!” The adults didn't listen. Instead, there were hands under her arms, lifting her up and pulling her out of the car. When her legs refused to follow the rest of her body- Still trapped by the backseat- the adults pulled harder. Catra could almost hear her skin ripping as they pulled her to safety. She wept openly now. She turned towards the person holding her, and pressed her face into their body.

“Oh, oh shit…uh, hey, little girl,” Someone said. Catra tried to look up at them, but she couldn't keep her eyes open long enough. “You’re going to be okay,” The voice said again. And because she didn't know any better, she believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for this chapter: death of a parent (mother, to be specific) and car crashes


	2. | before | 1987 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is over yeet
> 
> tws: child abuse (talked about), underage drinking/smoking, unhealthy friendships

_**Before** _

* * *

 

**_1987_ **

* * *

 

An anachronism is something that doesn't belong to its place or time. To Catra, that definition was redundant. A time was as much of a place as the alley she smoked in or the library she worked at. The only difference was that you couldn't choose your location in time. So really, an anachronism was something alien to its environment. Then again, there wasn't a point in getting worked up over stuff like that. She could always look away from the word-a-day calendar on the principal’s desk. But she was in trouble, and it would be a lot harder to look him in the eye when he scolded her. So she kept her head down, and remained critical of the calendar. 

“Ms. Driluth,” He began drawled, “Do you know why you’re here right now?” She shrugged. It could have been anything, although three specific things stood out: The money she stole from Alicia Jordan, the fight with Iggy’s girlfriend, or her foster dad's drug ring. She wasn't sure how any of those had made their way to her principal, but it didn't matter. She was handling things. 

The principal sighed. He leaned forward, and picked up a sheet of paper from his desk.

“Are you aware of your grades?” She shook her head. “Ah. Allow me to read them to you. In English, a C. In Algebra, a D. In Biology, an F. In History, a C. In Spanish-” He sighed, and set down the paper. “Do I need to continue?”

“Any A’s?”  

“No.”

“Damn, I was really hoping to keep my 4.0 going strong,” She mused sarcastically. The principal did not appear amused. 

“This is no laughing matter, Ms. Driluth. If you can't bring your grades up, you’ll be suspended.”

“I never understood the point of suspension,” She said, finally raising her head. “I’m doing bad in school so I don't have to come? What kind of sense does that make? Not that I’m complaining,” She added, “I don't get it is all.” The principal was not amused. His eyes remained focused on Catra, his brows furrowed and his jowls pinched into a frown. 

“Don't change the subject.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Getti.”

“Hmm. For now, all I can do is give you detention.” He pulled another slip of paper from his desk and began scribbling all over it. “You will stay for two hours after school every day until Thanksgiving break.”

“What?! That’s not fair!” 

“I think its absolutely fair, Ms. Driluth.”

“I have work after school! How am I supposed to do that and detention and bring my grades up?” Mr. Getti shrugged. 

“You should have thought of that before you decided to slack.” 

“But, Mr. Getti!” Catra could feel the whine slipping into her voice. She hated whining, but she wasn't done talking yet. It was quite the predicament. “That’s so long! Break isn't for another three whole weeks! I can't-”

“Not my problem, Driluth. Take it to someone who cares.” He handed her the detention slip. “You will report to room 205 after school.” 

“Come on, Mr. Getti. You have to at least let me do my time on the third floor.” 

“That will be all, Ms. Driluth. Now get out of my office, you’re wasting my time.”

“Oh, I’m wasting your time?” Mr. Getti pulled off his glasses and fixed her with a serious look.

“Would you care to make it four weeks?” Catra prepared to retort, and almost started yelling, but managed to reign herself in. 

“No, Mr. Getti,” She gritted out, “I’m absolutely overjoyed with my three weeks.”

“Excellent,” He replied. “Now get out of my office before I call security.” Catra stuck out her tongue, grabbed her backpack, and stalked out of his office. She kicked the door shut with as much force as she could muster. She her foot was in the air to kick it again when someone called her name. 

“Hey, Catra!” She recognized that voice. As if like magic, her worries faded away. She spun around, a grin on her face. 

“Adora!” Down the hall was Adora, her best friend in the entire world. She was tall with blond hair and blue eyes, and could have a career in modeling if she didn't love sports so much. Catra put up a hand and waved- As if Adora would have a hard time spotting her in the empty hallway. “What are you doing here? Isn't it fifth period?” Adora shook her head.

“Nope, lunch just started. I was talking to Mr. Ross. What are you doing here?” Catra shrugged. 

“Nothing much, just Mr. Getti fucking hates me.” Adora’s face was immediately sympathetic.

“What happened this time?” Catra held up her detention slip. 

“Fucking three weeks of detention is what!” 

“Why?” Adora asked, her nose scrunched into a button.

“Apparently, my grades are too bad- Which they’re not, by the way. I swear he has it out for me.” Adora hummed in acknowledgement. 

“How are they? Your grades?” 

“They’re fine. I’m not, like, failing everything, if that’s what you mean.” Adora hummed again.

“Good.” 

“Yeah,” Catra said. They stood in silence for a moment, before Adora shifted her backpack and sighed. 

“You, uh, ready to go to lunch? I’m starving.” Catra nodded. 

“Yeah, sure.” The pair turned and began walking towards the cafeteria. Catra kept her head down as they walked, trying to align her feet with the tiles of the floor. She didn't actually want to eat lunch, but Adora did, so she’d go too. Most days, she only ate enough that Adora wouldn't worry about her. Adora worried a lot, and sometimes, Catra didn't mind it. At others, Catra would rather Adora stayed in her own lane. Besides, she didn't get it. Catra couldn't eat lunch. She was too fat to eat three meals a day. 

“So, I’m just curious, but, like, how are your grades?” Adora asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. “School hasn't been the same without you.” At the start of the school year, Adora got into all honors classes, leaving Catra behind in the world of regular-ness. She’d been badgering Catra about applying for next year ever since she found out she was going to be taking special classes. 

“Fine.” 

“How fine?” Catra bit her bottom lip, heat prickling at the back of her neck. She always hated this part. It was fact by now that whenever she talked about school, Adora's response made her feel stupid. Adora’s better test scores and neater notes had a remarkable tendency to rain on her parade. So Catra preferred to keep school out of their conversations. 

“Not bad, okay? I’m only failing in Bio now, so-”

“You’re failing?!” Adora said, “That’s not fine! Do you need help studying?” Catra shrugged. It was an offer Adora had made before, but one she never accepted. She could handle her shit. She was handling it.  

“I think I’m good.”

“But you always say that, and you’re still failing!”

“Yeah, but I don't have- I can't.  Bio is just harder for me than you.” 

“Sure, but-”

“It’s all good in Catra-town,” She said, and slung an arm around Adora’s shoulder. “Now come on. You have to tell me what happened in Razz’s class today.” Ms. Razz was a history teacher, and the least sane woman on the face of the Earth. She was absolutely insane, and many students hated her. Catra didn't have her, but she knew enough people who did to have a good grasp on how insane the woman was.  

“Oh!” Adora perked up, “Not much. Lonnie made a joke about cocaine, then Ms. Razz started ranting about the Opium Wars and Pablo Escobar.” 

“Sounds delightful,” Catra said, and pulled her arm away from Adora as they reached the cafeteria.  

“I guess. But, like, none of her classes are ever on the same page. Its so annoying sometimes.” Catra shrugged. 

“My Spanish teacher is like that too. I think he’s an escapee from a mental hospital or something.” The expression on Adora’s face was something of a cross between amused and curious. Part of it was natural inquisition, and the other part was that in New York, the rumors were more true than you’d expect. 

“Cool,” Adora said, “I’m gonna go get our seats.” She left, running off to their usual table. Catra rolled her eyes. Adora had been doing that exact same thing since the first day of sixth grade. It must've been Pavlovian at this point. Catra qualified for a free lunch, so she got one while Adora found a table. No matter how many other people sat with her, she always made sure to save a seat for Catra. Never once in four years had Catra gone without a seat at lunch. That was nice. Sometimes nicer than others- Like when Catra actually got to sit at the table, rather than on Adora’s lap. But anyway, Catra had stability in her lunch table, which was more than some people could say.

After her mother died, her friends passed Catra around for a few years like in a game of hot potato. The last friend she stayed with had kids of her own. Her name was Ms. Weaver, even to her biological children. It was almost a full year before Catra gave up and sent a letter to Child Protective Services. Two months later, they showed up. They couldn't find anything wrong with the place, to Catra’s dismay, so they left. Later that night, she learned what it felt like to take the clasp of a belt to the eye and what the scar looked like.

But it was fine. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened. And Catra was well aware of the risks- CPS would have had to take them for everything to have been alright. Ms. Weaver also had three more children that she was taking care of. Their names were Esme, Mick, and Luch. None of those were nicknames.  For the longest time, Catra had assumed their actual names were Esmeralda, Mickey, and Lucia, but that wasn’t the case. All three were younger than her, and sometimes it seemed like they had a bond. Other times, Catra feared them. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. She couldn't be afraid of someone whose head barely reached her shoulders.

After a couple minutes of waiting, Catra was able to get her lunch. Her current foster dad had obscene wealth, although you wouldn't know it from looking at him. He was a tall man with hair dyed blue.  He wore eyeliner, but you usually couldn't see it from behind his red-tinted sunglasses. Parenting was not a priority to him. All he shared with Catra from his life was how to fake tax returns. She was pretty sure he had only taken her in for the benefit of his drug ring. Ever since she moved in with him, her arrest record was filling with drug charges.

After she got her lunch, she made her way over to the table. Adora had, as always, saved her a spot. Also at the table were Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle, three people Catra had known since before her mother died. At one point in time, they were her best friends, but such ceased to be true when the three of them switched into honors classes. But it was fine. Catra had new associates in her regular, shitty classes anyway. She didn't need them. 

“Hey,” She said, setting her lunch on the table. Lonnie was the first to look up from her conversation with Rogelio. 

“Hi,” She said, and immediately went back to talking to him. Rogelio was an interesting person, to say the least. He was tall and bulky, and had a green mohawk. When he was younger, he was a mute, but now, he could sort of talk. The only person who understood him was Lonnie. Their whole thing was super weird to Catra. 

“Hi, Catra,” Adora said. She had become distracted with something- Homework, by the looks of it. She ate an apple with her right hand, and wrote with her left, not looking up.

“Whatcha doin, there, Adora?” She asked.

“Oh, this?” Adora glanced up, and took a bite of her apple. “It’s for Spanish.” 

“Que interesante,” Catra replied. Spanish was an interesting subject for her. Her mom spoke some Spanish before she died, and Catra heard it at work, but never the kind they taught at school. That was always peninsular Spanish. And boy, were the Spaniards on something. Catra much prefered the sounds of New York immigrant Spanish to the bastardized version of Madrid Spanish she learned in the classroom. 

“Verdaderamente!” Adora agreed, and went back to her worksheet. Great. Now that Adora was working, Catra had nobody to talk to. Well, she could talk to Kyle, but, like. It was Kyle. Come on, now. So instead, she ate her soggy, fattening french fries. 

“I’m, uh, I’m going to the vending machine,” She announced to nobody in particular. Nobody looked up or acknowledged her. After a moment, she got up anyway. Instead of going to the vending machine, she wandered around the cafeteria. She was virtually unnoticed. She weaved around people and tables, seldom making eye contact with them. A few faces were familiar from class or drug deals, but most were completely foreign. But that didn't matter. She had Adora, even if the other girl was always busy with homework and sports. 

As Catra wandered, she caught the eye of someone she recognized. A small girl, her hair braided, and her eyes almond shaped. The girl, along with a group of others, frequented her library. Though they had never spoken, Catra felt tempted to wave or go over and talk to her or something. What kind of conversation would that be? Hi, I’m aware of your existence. Please make me aware of more. That would be super weird. So Catra sent the girl a curt nod and kept walking. She wasn't sure, but she thought the girl nodded back. 

When she grew bored, Catra returned to her table. She sat next to Adora, and tried to be quiet, but it wasn't long before she grew bored and time slowed to a crawl. With a groan, Catra grabbed her backpack from the floor. Doing her homework was always an option- And there was that Algebra worksheet she had to do. Doing math in any capacity usually made her hate being alive, but seeing as her grade was- What? A D? She could stand to do some more work. Her foster dad would kill her upon becoming aware of the D in math. 

It wasn't long before they could leave the cafeteria. By the time the bell rang, Catra had gained frustration and understood less than she had when she started the worksheet.

“Ready to go?” Adora asked her, and she nodded. Catra was especially ready for gym in seventh period. That was her only class with Adora this year. But she had to slog- Or sleep- through Biology to get there. Maybe that was why she was failing that class.

“Yeah,” Catra responded, “Let’s go.” They walked together for as long as their schedules would allow before parting ways. 

“Bye!” Catra called out, as she turned and started going up the stairs. 

“See ya, Catra!” Adora yelled back. Catra grinned to herself. She loved the way Adora said her name, even though it was wrong. She fell into the common pitfall of replacing the first ‘a’ with an ‘e,’ but the way she finished the name off was unique. It was something only she had ever said before, and that made it special. The way Adora said her name…Catra couldn't put her finger on it, but it was sort of like a secret only the two of them knew. It was a shame Adora had a phonetic name and the secret couldn't go both ways.

Catra struggled to force herself through the rest of the day. Biology was on brand in levels of tediousness. When seventh period rolled around, Adora didn't even pay Catra any attention. She was too busy talking to some other girls from her fancy smart classes. Well, that was fine with Catra. She wasn't stupid. She understood that sometimes Adora had people besides Catra who wanted to talk to her, and she couldn't talk to Catra all the time. It was also annoying. Adora was her best friend, not Lonnie’s, or whoever else she was hanging out with. 

Though she never joined the conversation, Catra eavesdropped all class. She caught little snippets, mostly from Adora. The other girls she was walking with had softer voices- Although Catra was pretty sure one of them was talking about her dad leaving. Which, by the way, she needed to grow up. Getting stuck up on shit like that only made it worse. And the girl seemed very stuck up on it. She had her hair dyed blue and everything. Heh. Probably part of her rebellious phase or whatever. As soon as her dad started paying child support, she’d be fine, back to being complicit in rich girl world. 

When school was finally over, Catra did wind up staying for detention. Even though she talked a lot of shit, she needed to keep herself out of trouble right now. Her foster dad was losing his patience with her, and any more big screw ups would get her sent right back to the home. Or worse, Ms. Weaver’s apartment. She shuddered at the thought.

Despite not giving a shit about her, her foster dad was actually decent as foster parents went. He usually didn't hit her, and he wasn't very mean to her- if not blunt sometimes. He wanted her to do well in school, but didn't every parent? He was nowhere near being a parent, but he kept her safe and gave her money, and that was alright with her. 

After her detention was up, Catra had to run to the library. She almost didn't make it in time for her shift, but that was sort of okay. Her job wasn't super important. Most of what she did was shelving books and putting labels on new ones. She made four dollars and hour doing it, and often saw people from school milling around. That day in particular, she spotted the girl she had seen at lunch. The girl was with a group now, who may or may not have also been at school. They hung out between shelves, made lots of noise, and didn't appear to care that they were in a library. 

They stayed throughout her entire shift. When Catra was on her way out, she one of the actual librarians stopped her and brought into a side room.

“I’m sorry to hold you up, Catra, but we need to talk,” She said, as though she was talking to a child. 

“Okay. What’s going on?” Catra asked slowly, only a little scared of the answer. The librarian sighed, and pinched her nose. 

“This is hard to say, but…We’re broke. The library is out of money. We’re going to have to either close our doors or get rid of some employees.” Catra’s heart sank. She couldn't afford to lose this job! Where was she supposed to go after school? And what was she supposed to do about money?

“O-Okay,” She mumbled, glaring at her shoes. 

“Its pretty unfortunate. I tried to convince my bosses not to fire anybody, but they didn't listen. So, Catra, I’m sorry to say this, but…You’re done here.” 

“I understand,” Catra growled. Her life was over. 

“I’m so sorry,” The librarian told her, “But we just can't afford to keep you on, and you’re in a low level position and everything. Its not an ideal situation.” 

“It’s okay,” Catra said, composing herself. “I get it, man. No money, more problems, you know?” The librarian looked somewhat relieved. 

“Yeah, totally. Its been super rough here the past few months. I’m sorry, though. That’s the first time I’ve ever had to fire anybody.” Catra had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Why did this librarian care so much? She didn't even know the woman’s name. “Oh, and, um. We’ll still send you your paycheck for November at the end of the month.” 

“Thanks,” Catra nodded shortly, and then left the room. She took off her name tag and spiked it into a nearby trash can. “Fuck me,” She mumbled, and grabbed her backpack from behind the main desk. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” She kept mumbling as she went on her way. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” 

“Yo, you okay?” Catra was tugged from her thoughts by a somewhat familiar voice. She glanced around, and eventually noticed the girl from school. Instead of responding, her first instinct was to wave. She almost did before putting her hand back to her side. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got fired,” She said, a little bitter.

“That’s rough,” Said the girl. She left her spot leaning against a bookshelf and approached Catra. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I’m, uh, I’m good,” Catra said as a reflex.

“Oh, good. I don't know shit about talking feelings,” The girl said, and ran a hand through her hair. “Me and my girls were about to hit up this party down in Soho. You wanna come?” Catra shrugged. She should be getting back home. Her foster dad might want her to make a run tonight. Then again, fuck him. Wasn't that supposed to be someone’s actual job? He could get another drug mule whenever he pleased. 

“Yeah, sure,” She said on a whim, “Let’s go.” She left with the girl and her group of friends, not knowing a single one of their names. By the night’s end, she learned a couple names- Tamari, Johnny, Matea- but likely couldn't pin them to faces. The music at the party had been okay. Nothing she particularly loved. But more important was the exorbitant quantity of alcohol present. The party was in a storage unit owned by some kid who went to Catholic school, with almost enough beer and Franzia to make Catra wonder if they were okay. Then again, she drank enough to make herself wonder if she was okay.  

She remembered that night in flashes. When they arrived, she was one of the few people in the room who looked like her. Most people wore tight shirts and baggy jeans, or tiny shorts with fishnets, or their hair like Madonna. Catra was anachronistic in her shredded black jeans, dark flannel, and Yankees cap. She felt the urge to find Adora and cling to her side, but Adora wasn't there. Adora was at home studying or something, like the good girl she was. 

Catra clung instead to the group she had come with. They didn't pay her much attention, except to ask if she wanted a drink or a joint. She never turned anything down. At some point along the way, her goal turned from having a good time to losing the ability to think. She couldn't remember why; she was overcome by a horrible wave of sadness around ten and replaced it with alcohol. Then came the realization that being drunk was really fucking fun. She was a better dancer and singer, and she was funny. 

When she woke up in the morning, Catra learned that the amount of fun one had while drinking was proportional to the amount of suffering the next day. When she woke up, Catra thought she might actually be dying. It was the equivalent of a biblical apocalypse inside her body. Locusts, floods, the whole nine yards. And that was only the headache.

“Oh, fuck me,” She tried to say, but her voice was so hoarse it came out as more of a whisper. She blinked in the bright light of the early morning, and brought a hand up to rub at her eyes. Shortly after, her greasy skin and tangled hair came to her attention. “Shit.” She glanced around her surroundings, and found herself in an apartment. She had no idea whose, but it wasn't the one they had started off in. That was a little strange, but it wasn't the worst place she'd woken up.

The first thing she noticed about the place was the carpet. It was soft under her fingers, and for a minute, she laid there and ran her fingers across the floor. She wasn't sure why, but the softness of the carpet gave her hope. Maybe because the person who lived here had a nice carpet, which meant it was possible for someone like her to have a nice carpet. At that point, what was stopping her from  having a nice carpet? But then again, she drank so much last night she struggled to remember getting drunk. So she didn't know if the owner of the carpet was like her at all, and she was back at square one. 

Sitting up turned out to be a mistake. Catra’s vision went dark and she would have collapsed, were it not for the couch behind her. Her headache was not helped at all by sitting up; in fact, it increased tenfold. 

“Oh, shit,” She mumbled. 

“Shuddup,” A voice groaned from behind her, and a hand fell down onto her shoulder. Catra yelped in shock, and jumped to her feet. Also a mistake, but she was too busy paying attention to the adrenaline to notice that she wasn't ready to jump yet. 

Laying on the couch was a girl- Catra believed her to be one of the people she had gone to the party with. The girl was face down, although she hadn't changed her clothes. She wore a denim skirt and a leather tank top, and had tightly coiled hair. Probably tight enough to fit a finger, but that was an experiment for another time. 

“Tamari?” Catra guessed. The girl shifted her hand, dangling off the couch. She held up one thumb, and Catra wasn't certain, but she thought there was a small grin on the girl’s face. 

“That’s me,” She sang. Catra nodded. 

“O-Okay, great. Um, where are we?” Tamari shrugged.

“I ain’t remember, man,” She said, and shifted on the couch to face Catra. “I’m fucking tired,” With a giggle, “I’m still drunk.” 

Catra grunted in response. She cursed herself for going along with a group of people with a similar distaste for sobriety. Tamari groaned, and shifted into a different position. Facing Catra, she was able to squint around the rest of the apartment and see what she could see. 

“This looks like, uh…Matea’s place. Well, it ain’t belong to her, it belongs to her parents, but, uh…” She trailed off. “Shit, man, this couch is fuckin comfortable.” A corner of Catra’s mouth twitched. 

“Is it soft?” She asked.

“No shit,” Tamari responded. She pulled her knees into her chest, leaving the other side of the couch open. “You can sit if you want.” Catra did. She more curled into the armrest bit, as she was finally free of the tremendous effort of standing while hungover. The couch was a haven, and so soft. Not quite as nice as the carpet, but also not far off. If only she could have slept on the couch last night too…

In a couple hours, almost everyone else had woken up. This was, indeed, Matea’s place. Matea was a small, Eastern European girl who spoke with a heavy accent and had a mouth full of dying teeth. She claimed not to be rich, but her family had more money than Catra would know what to do with. As it turned out, daydreaming of infinite wealth got boring after you fixed all your problems. Even so, drowning in money never did sound all that bad.

“Anybody want eat something?” Matea asked, her voice low and gravelly. Catra shook her head, even though she was hungry. She sat with the group of strangers while they ate, and attempted to recall their names. It wouldn't be long before she remembered what day it was. 

“It’s Thursday!” She shouted, jumping to her feet, “Shit, what time is it?” She glanced around wildly for a clock. There wasn't one in the room she was currently in, so she ventured off to look for one. Nobody followed her, and she eventually found one in a bedroom. It was ten thirty two, and she should've been to be in English right now. She didn't even know where she was, let alone how to get all the way back to school! Oh, this was all too much. Her foster dad was going to kill her when he found out she missed school. 

“Yo, Catra!” A voice called out, snapping her back to the moment. “Where you at?” She stepped out of the bedroom, trying to compose herself. 

“Over here,” She said, trying to keep her voice lower than it actually was. 

“Yo,” A boy said, turning the corner. “What’s your deal?” 

“What’s my deal?” She echoed, “It’s Thursday, dude. I need to be at school.” 

“Chill, bro. We're skipping today.” 

“I can't _ skip _ ,” She said slowly, “My dad-”

“Man, fuck your dad,” The boy said, “What’s he gonna do to you? You got a job, right?” Catra shook her head. 

“No, dude, I got fired last night. That’s the whole stupid reason I went with you to that party!”

“Alright, chill. My bad.” The boy scratched the back of his head. “But you still got some money, right?” She nodded. “A’ight, so what exactly are you so afraid of?” Catra opened her mouth to respond, but found that she didn't know. She blinked a couple times, trying to think of something. All her foster dad cared about were her grades and selling drugs, so if she could keep her grades up, who cared about her attendance? He only hit her when she deserved it- And she could take it anyway. So, yeah, the boy was right. There wasn't anything to be afraid of. 

“Actually, yeah. You’re right,” Catra said, “Son of a bitch doesn't care about me anyway.” 

“Yeah, see, you’re fine,” The boy said, “Now come on. You needa eat something, for real. You’re skinny as hell.” Catra held her tongue on arguing with him, even though he was wrong. It wouldn't lead them anywhere.

That was the first time Catra missed school. It was a sort of definitive marker in her life, although she wouldn't remember it. She would only remember that it started when she was a freshman. It wasn't long before she started showing up to school drunk, too. Those were the best days. Everybody loved her when she was drunk. Adora thought she was hilarious, and actually paid attention to her when they talked at lunch. By the time her detention was up, Catra had learned a whole new way of living.

There was only one downside to drinking and smoking and partying like she did. Her foster dad didn't like it. And yeah, he hit her a couple times, but there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing that she could see, at the very least.

Not once did it ever occur to Catra that she would develop an addiction. It was always just this once, or just for fun. But that was the thing about becoming an alcoholic or a drug addict. You say just this once, then twice, and the next thing you know, you’re addicted. And she didn't even realize it. On a subconscious level, she was able to better understand why her foster dad sold drugs. He got his highs from selling, and Catra got hers from using. 

As the school year progressed, Catra grew further and further apart from Adora. From the outside, it was quite natural. Everybody thinks childhood friendships are parallel lines, but that couldn't be further from the truth. They each fell in with their new friends and people. Unfortunately, Adora found her people while Catra was left behind with people she couldn't force herself to love. All the while, she watched Adora get everything she ever wanted without even trying for it. They still spoke, but not as much. It was over Christmas break that Catra realized she wasn't Adora’s best friend anymore. That revelation was about all she remembered from that week, actually. She found herself blacking out more and more lately. Who could blame her? She was watching herself slip away from everybody she cared about, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

By the time spring rolled around, the Catra most people claimed to know was dead and gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats a big oof, miss catra
> 
> anyway thats all for now. please let me know what you thought, i love feedback. 
> 
> tumblr:
> 
> urmomsstuntdouble.tumblr.com (fandom)  
> paraduxkys.tumblr.com (main)
> 
> das all for now baiiiiiii


	3. | before | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: violence, semi-excessive cursing, and a strip search. 
> 
> this is an angsty one folks. and long, so strap yourselves in. this was super fun to write, for the most part. i hope you enjoy :D

_**before** _

* * *

 

_**1988** _

 

The only clear memory Catra had of winter was from Adora’s birthday, which she was sober for. She spent the week prior fantasizing about everything they would do. What she most looked forward to was Adora’s smile when Catra showed up at her house, sober and with a neatly-wrapped gift in hand. She imagined playing cards, and laying under Adora’s bed like how they used to lay under park benches. Later on, they’d whisper stories in the dark and swap parts of their dinners they didn't like.

None of that happened. Adora didn't smile when Catra showed up. She said, “Oh, Catra! C-Come in!” and that was the extent of their interactions. Her present only received a cursory glance before it was cast aside and Adora opened the next one. Apparently, it was the most thoughtful gift she'd ever received. It was a page of pressed flowers, how thoughtful could it be?

The last straw was hearing Adora call someone else her best friend. That was too much. Catra stood, stomped her way to the bathroom, and curled up into a ball under the sink. That wasn't okay. Adora was hers. Catra didn't know who this other bitch was, but she couldn't come along and steal Adora from her. That was just rude.

Not long after Catra began free falling into a rage, there was a knock at the door. She held her breath, focussing on the shadow under the door. A second knock came not long after, a little harsher than the first. Catra slunk out from under the sink enough to see the light switch, and edged her arm up the wall to flip it off. Just before she did, there came a third knock.

“We all saw you go in there, you know,” said a familiar voice. It took Catra a moment, but she recognized the voice- Lonnie. Ever the fucking moderator. “There’s no point in whatever you’re doing,” She said. Catra rolled her eyes, and flicked the light switch off. To her dismay, it made a tiny clicking sound. She continued to hold her breath.

“Okay, I don't know what’s up with you, but I heard and saw that, so.” Catra clenched her jaw. “I’m about to shit myself.” The silence roared before Lonnie spoke again.

“Alright, I’m coming in.” Catra tried to think if she’d locked the door. She found out when door creaked and a sliver of light pierced the darkness.

“No!” She grunted, and lunged for the doorknob. All she wound up achieving was head-butting Lonnie in the stomach. Lonnie pushed her way into the tiny bathroom and shoved Catra to the floor. She closed the door behind her and sat down on the toilet.

“The fuck are you doing?” She asked. Catra shrugged, unable to meet her judgemental gaze.

“As you might have been able to tell from the darkness, I was communing with the rats.”

“ _Rats_?”

“In the toilet.” Lonnie raised one eyebrow.

“You gonna explain that, or...?”

“I sit by the toilet, turn off the lights to make the rats feel at home, and then-”

“Oh my God,” Lonnie groaned, “You can't just do whatever you want.”

“Sure I can,” Catra said, “And right now, I’m the oldest person in the room, so you have to listen to me. If you ain’t down with the rats, you gotta leave or Imma kick your ass.” Lonnie’s eyes widened, but she didn't look any less disappointed.

“You got issues,” She mumbled. Catra bristled, dropping the smirk from her face. “But why’d you do that? It was pretty rude.” Catra shrugged.

“Why do you care?” Lonnie looked annoyed now.

“‘Cause Adora’s my friend and you upset her.”

“Oh, _she’s_ upset?” Catra shouted, and tried to stand up. She rammed her head against the sink hard enough to give her empathy for football players.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Lonnie asked, and immediately sank to her knees. She crawled under the sink, right in front of Catra. If Catra had been able to focus on anything other than the pain in her head, she would have jabbed Lonnie in the throat.  

“Ow,” She groaned, leaning on the exposed pipes.

“Aww, shit,” Lonnie mumbled. Catra didn't know how, but her head wound up between two hands, with Lonnie’s face occupying most of her vision.

“Fuck off!” She shouted, her voice slow and annoyed. She lashed out, sending a jab into Lonnie’s chest. The girl fell back, and wound up propped against the toilet.

“Fuck you too,” She grunted, “Sorry for trying to help.”

“I don't need your help,” Catra spat, as if the words were venom on her tongue.

“Alright, alright, chill. Its cool if you hate me but you gotta at least say why you ran out. Ain’t you and Adora attached at the goddamn hip?” Catra almost burst into tears right then and there.

“Dunno where you got that idea,” She growled, and crawled out from under the sink before standing. “You’re a lot dumber than you look,” She told Lonnie, before leaving the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

“Bye, Adora!” She shouted, and was on her way. It wasn't until she was back in her bed in her foster dad’s apartment that she allowed herself to get mad.

* * *

Catra lifted the bottle to her lips and blew across the opening. She used to know a girl who could play glass bottles like flutes. If the girl was still alive, figuring it out wouldn't have been so frustrating. No matter how hard she tried, Catra still sounded like she was blowing air out of her mouth. And Tamari was no help, either. All she contributed was laughing at every failed attempt.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” Catra said without real anger, before taking a swig of her beer. Maybe less alcohol in the bottle would do it? She tried and failed once more.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucking impossible!” She screamed, and almost threw the bottle. But that would be a waste of beer, and she had to show Iggy her tits to get it.

“You should ask one of the guys,” Tamari giggled, and laid back across the table Catra was leaning against. Catra shrugged, glancing around. The party's largest demographic appeared to be men a little older than they were. None of them looked smart enough to know the trick.

“Hey, hey!” Tamari said, “What,” She hiccuped, “What would you do if pole dancing was an Olympic sport?” Catra shrugged, and took another sip of her beer.

“‘Prolly nothing.”

“Damn,” Tamari said, “Girl, you got the ass for it.” Catra rolled her eyes, heat rushing to her face.

“You’re too drunk right now,” Catra mumbled.

“You’re drunk,” Tamari murmured, defiance in her voice. “I want to make snow angels.”

“Bitch, it is March,” Catra reminded her. Tamari shrugged, and hugged herself.

“Wanna make snow angels,” She mumbled again.

“Christ,” Catra whispered to herself, “What am I gonna do with you?” Feeling bold, she laid one hand on Tamari’s forehead.

“Whatcha doin?” Tamari asked. Catra shrugged. She supposed it was because she wanted to. But that was weird. You couldn't touch people without asking. And she wasn't some kook, so she took her hand away.

“Noooo,” Tamari said, “Put it back!”

“You’re actually a fucking child,” Catra groaned, but did anyway. Tamari had soft, clear skin, warm to the touch. Her forehead was nice, but Catra would bet that other parts of her skin would be even better. Like her thighs. They were strong, and sometimes shone in the light. They looked excellent to grab. 

“If I’m a child, that makes you my mommy,” Tamari sang, “You’d be the worst mommy.”

“Hey!” Catra said, turning to look at Tamari’s face. “You take that back!”

“But its true, and lying is bad,” Tamari mumbled. She was so far out of it she was talking about morality. Catra needed to get her some dick or get her home. She scanned the area for guys Tamari would be into- not a single one was attractive. She was about to give up when she spotted someone familiar accross the alley. He was bulky, had a mohawk with the tips dyed green. It was Rogelio, and like a puppy on a leash, Lonnie was standing next to him. Fucking peachy.

“Shit,” She mumbled.

“Wassup?” Tamari asked.

“Someone I know is here.”

“We should go talk to them!” Tamari said, lurching into a sitting position, “Where are they?”

“Nah, I can't,” Catra said, “We, uh…we got beef.”

“You should fight them!” Tamari said.

“Okay, you’re definitely too drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Tamari protested, and got to her feet. She swayed without anything to hold onto. “You need to drunk!”

“I need to drunk?” Catra nitpicked. “Drunk is an adjective, sweetie.” But she listened anyway, and knocked back the rest of her beer in one gulp.

“Hell yeah!” Tamari slurred, and leaned against Catra. As fate would have it, Catra was sober enough to jolt away. “Let’s fuckin’ dance, Kitty Cat.” Catra underwent the shock of her life. Kitty Cat? There was something so strange about that nickname. It felt almost derogatory. She chose to believe that the heat under her skin was anger.

“Call me that again and I’ll shank you,” Catra said, but joined Tamari anyway. She set her beer down on the table, and followed Tamari out of the Iggy's garage. He only ever hosted parties in the alley behind his house. Confusing for a first time attendee. Catra wanted to respect him for that, but after the tits-for-beer encounter, it was pretty difficult.

“Alright, Kitty Cat,” Tamari cackled, her head thrown back with laughter.

“Shut up!” Catra complained, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face.

“Kitty Cat, Kitty Cat, Kitty Kit Kat,” Tamari taunted. Catra lunged for her, but she slid out of the way at the last moment. She howled with laughter. Catra didn't know why, but she laughed too as she chased Tamari around the alley.

“Stop it!” Tamari shouted, no malice in her voice.

“Stop calling me Kitty Cat!” Catra shouted back. Tamari only laughed, and shouted again,

“Kitty Cat!”

Catra lunged at her once again, this time managing to grab her from behind. She reveled in her success before realizing she had no post-chase plans. It wasn't long before the lightness between them died.

“Catra,” Tamari said after a moment, “What would you do right now if I turned around?”

“What?” Catra asked. She didn't hear. If only she had. Tamari turned to face her, and rested a hand on Catra’s waist. That single, tiny touch might as well have been an H bomb. Reflected in Tamari’s dark, mirror-like eyes, Catra could almost see herself turn red. Heart rate jacked to a thousand, she tried to steady her breathing. It was fine, it was fine, it was fine. She was okay. It was okay if someone touched her waist. She was completely, one hundred percent, A-Okay if there was someone touching her there.

“What are you doing?” Catra asked, her throat tight. Tamari’s eyes were unreadable.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Tamari muttered, “I wanna-” Instead of finishing her sentence, she lurched forward and pressed her mouth to Catra’s jaw. Catra forced herself to take it. Never mind that Tamari was already too close to her, already touching her- Oh. Oh, fuck, fuck, no. Tamari’s mouth was on hers now. Her lips were cold and wet, and she tasted like alcohol when she stuck out her tongue. Her arms were shackles, and matter how hard Catra tried to escape, her body refused to obey. All she could do was stand there while Tamari kissed her.

There was a moment where she broke away to breathe. Catra celebrated in her head- Fireworks and everything- but it was premature. Tamari was back within the second. Catra was pretty sure she started crying at that point.

Her savior came in the form of one Lonnie Davis.

“Wow, Catra, I didn't know you were into pussy,” Came along the familiar, teasing sound of Lonnie’s voice. With that, she could move again. She leaned away from Tamari and took a few steps back, feeling better already.

“Y-You fuckin’ wish I liked pussy,” She stammered, hands on her hips. Lonnie, smirking, raised an eyebrow.

“You sure about that?” Catra nodded. “Who’s your girlfriend?”

“Tamari Caplan,” Tamari said, sounding even more drunk than she had when she had been lying on the table.

“Hey, Tamari, I’m Lonnie-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Catra shouted, “I- I don't like girls, okay? I’m not a fucking dyke.” Lonnie scrunched up her mouth as though she were thinking.

“Looked pretty gay to me,” Lonnie sang, “But, if you ain’t want her anymore-” Catra interrupted her with a quick punch to the jaw.

“Fuck!” Lonnie gasped, and stumbled backwards. “What the fuck, man?” Catra didn't dignify her with a response. Her chest filled with a sense of hubris- Lonnie fucking deserved that punch. Catra shrugged and crossed her arms. Rogelio mumbled something to Lonnie, and she rolled her eyes.

“Nah, bro, I’m good. Don't worry ‘bout it.”

“Wait, hold up,” Tamari interjected, “You ain't gay?”

“This isn't about you!” yelled Catra. Had she been paying attention, she would have noticed the hurt look on Tamari’s face.

“Oh, yes it is,” Lonnie muttered, “Like, how you gonna say it's not when you were just kissing on her?”

“Why do you care?!” Catra shouted. She threw her arms out to the sides. “At least _I_ have someone who wants to kiss me!” Lonnie raised an eyebrow, unphased.

“What makes you think I don't?” She said. The calm, almost bored tone of her voice only enraged Catra more.

“Fuck you, Lonnie,” She hissed, stalking closer. “You don't deserve them, whoever they are.”

“Right back at you,” Lonnie replied. She looked up at Catra with disdain in her eyes. Even so, she couldn't resist taking a step forward herself. Eye to eye, the two sized each other up. Catra didn't like her odds of winning if- When- they wound up fighting. Catra had an inch or two on her, but she had at least ten pounds on Catra- Not that Catra wanted that extra weight. But Lonnie did have that awful dyke dread-mohawk thing going on. It would be easy to grab if she needed to. Her cheekbones weren't particularly sharp, so Catra wouldn't break her hands when she beat them in.

To nobody’s surprise, Catra threw the first punch. It wasn't a very good one, but that was because she was standing, like, two inches away from Lonnie and didn't have enough room to wind up. She hit Lonnie in the stomach, causing her to groan and fold in on herself. Her head came forward a little, and Catra took that as a chance to make another strike. She threw a punch straight for Lonnie’s nose, but it got blocked.

Lonnie tightened her hand around Catra’s wrist, and yanked her straight into a knee. While Catra was still reeling, Lonnie shoved her away.

“I don't want to fight you, Catra,” She sneered, a note of superiority in her voice.

“Shame,” Catra spat, gathering herself. She charged forward in an attempt to tackle Lonnie. The pair fell to the ground, twisting on their way down so Catra hit the ground first.

“Shit!” She shouted when her head hit the cracked bricks of the alleyway. By the time she had her bearings, Lonnie climbed on top of her. She drew back a fist, but before she could strike, Catra drew a knee into her chest and kicked Lonnie off of her. It was a graceless motion, but it worked. Now, Catra pounced. She raked her nails across Lonnie’s face, trying her hardest to dig into closed eyes. It was what she deserved. Lonnie didn't care about anything other than herself.

“Fuck you!” Catra screeched. For a moment, she blacked out. All she felt was skin under her knuckles and a slight ache in her shoulders. She scratched and bit and kicked at anything that came near her. Lonnie barely landed a hit. “Fuck-” She took a breath “You!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She heard Lonnie yell, and for the first time, there was an emotion in her voice other than I’m better than you.

“Shut the fuck up,” Catra gasped, coming away from Lonnie for a moment. Blood trickled down the side of her face from a cut at about her temple. Her cheeks were swollen and bruised, and her fists were still clenched.

“I didn't want to fight you,” Lonnie said, her voice low. Catra considered listening, but Lonnie looked too good all scratched up for her to stop.

“Well, you can't always get what you want,” Catra panted lowly. She charged at Lonnie again, and grabbed her around the middle. She was a lot less squishy than Catra had anticipated, but she didn't let herself get distracted by that. She plowed forward, until Lonnie began to stumble. Pain erupted, seemingly out of nowhere, in Catra’s shoulders. Her arms became gelatinous, and she fell forward- Straight into one of Lonnie’s fists. Her cheek smarted, and she thought she could feel it in her mouth. Not that she had time to think.

Lonnie had a look of pure rage in her eyes now. She stepped back, and wiped the blood off her face like she was tucking hair behind her ear. She started running straight at Catra. Catra tried to step out of the way, but there wasn't time. Lonnie took a giant leap, brought one foot into her chest, and pistoned it down again. She landed, sending that foot into Catra’s hip. Luckily for Catra, nothing broke, but her ass was on the ground and her whole body ached.

“What the fuck?” She shouted, but Lonnie didn't answer. Instead she dug a knee into Catra’s chest, right over her sternum.

“You,” Lonnie growled, “Are a slimy-” Knuckles struck Catra’s cheek. “Entitled-” Another punch. “Braindead, self-righteous, narcissistic, miserable-” Punch, punch, punch, punch. Cheek, jaw, other cheek, temple. “Fucking cunt!” Throat punch.

“Right-” Catra coughed, hardly able to speak. “Right back at you.” Lonnie growled, and lifted her head and shoulders off the ground by her shirt. In one of the worst choices of her life, Catra butted her head straight up into Lonnie’s forehead. She was pretty sure she heard her skull crack.

“Fucking shit!” Lonnie groaned, and fell back on her heels. Catra almost couldn't to sit up, but Lonnie was legally required to eat shit right now. If she didn't enforce that, who would?

Catra forced herself into a sitting position and threw an elbow into Lonnie’s face. Lonnie made a strangled yelping sound, and fell to the side.

“Hah,” Catra gasped, her vision still blurry. Her hands were stinging by now, and she felt like there was a knife stuck in her forehead, but it was worth it. Lonnie deserved it. She was a bitch. And she was trying to take Adora away from Catra. She always had been, even when they were kids! And Adora was the reason Catra even went to that party in the first place! So it was all Lonnie's fault.

“I win.”

Lonnie was on her feet before Catra could comprehend it. She tightened one hand around Catra’s throat, and squeezed. Catra’s vision grew blurrier.

“You disgust me,” Lonnie whispered, but Catra didn't hear. She couldn't focus on anything other than Lonnie squeezing her throat. She wasn't quite choking yet, but Lonnie had a strong, steady grip. And Catra’s throat was already fucked up going in.

“Cops!” Someone shouted, but Catra and Lonnie were too preoccupied with each other to notice. People began to run, throw down their drinks, and scream.

Meanwhile, Catra pawed at Lonnie’s hand on her throat. She was without energy, without power. She didn't know if she could keep fighting. But the satisfaction of winning was something Lonnie didn't deserve. Mustering the last of her strength, Catra spat the biggest, grossest loogie she’d ever hawked straight into Lonnie’s face. It hit her right between the eyes, and she recoiled.

“Ew!” She gasped, letting go of Catra. Relieved, and now oxygenated, Catra fell backwards. She leaned against a garage door, panting. But she didn't have much time- She had to think of something. Luck was on her side, though, as she spotted a half empty bottle on the ground near her. She lunged for it, scraping her stomach and ribs along the cement, and smashed the bottle in half.

Lonnie gasped, spotting her, and dove on top of her. She grabbed Catra’s wrist, and bent it back. “I am not doing this today.”

“Looks like-” Catra paused to wheeze. “Looks like you are.” With a final burst of energy, she rolled on top of Lonnie. The pair wrestled a moment longer before Catra finally wound up on top. She raised the broken bottle, and brought it down hard into Lonnie’s shoulder.

“Ah!” Lonnie shouted, tears bursting to her eyes. She threw her head back against the pavement, eyes closed shut. Catra glanced for a moment at the bottle- It was brown, and only some parts of the rim were stuck in Lonnie’s shoulder. Blood pooled around the circular outline. For a moment, they were still. Catra stabbed someone. Like, with intent to harm. She had always assumed it would happen at some point, but never like this. Never Lonnie, never this party. Never because…Why did she do it again? She couldn't remember.

“Lonnie?” Catra whispered, her heart racing. “Lonnie!” Lonnie covered her eyes with her good hand, and gritted out,

“What do want?!”

“W-Why,” Catra paused. She wasn't sure how to ask. So she didn't. “Why did you stop?”

“Do you want me to hit you again?” Catra pulled the bottle from her arm- Definitely the wrong move, as the blood flow grew heavier. Before Catra could say anything, Lonnie was moving underneath her. She bucked her hips and threw Catra off. A hand found its way into Catra’s hair. The last thing she remembered were bright lights, yelling, and a hard strike to her temple.  

* * *

 

Catra preferred to wake up before she opened her eyes. It allowed for some adjustment back to reality. Not that reality was so great anyway. She’d much rather stay asleep forever, but nobody could get what they wanted all the time.  

When she woke, she noticed two things: the harsh lighting and the pain tearing through her body. Breathing was equivalent to swallowing a box of razors, and sitting made every muscle burn.

“Fuck,” She croaked. She had to lay down again. Under her body was a cold, metal surface. Even though her head touched it softly, she may as well have been laying on a spike.  

“Well, well, well,” Said a dry voice, “You are alive. I was starting to worry.” Catra blinked a few times, and craned her eyes to see the speaker.

“Lonnie?” Lonnie, sat across the room on a metal slab of her own, nodded.

“Present and accounted for.” She refused to look at Catra.

“Where are we?” Catra struggled to say. Lonnie whirled around to face her, hazel eyes burning with wrath.

“Jail,” She spat, with more malice in her voice than there had been through the entire fight. Her wrath was something fierce. Catra recalled a fortune cookie from years ago- Beware the fury of the patient man. There was no doubt that Lonnie could have killed her if she wanted to.

“So we’re criminals now,” Catra said, “Great.”

“I’d say its just you,” Lonnie spat, “After all, you started it, and you fucking stabbed me!”

“Shh,” Catra mumbled, “Can't talk now. Hurts.”

“You should have thought of that before you attacked me!”

“You shouldn't have picked the fight,” Catra groaned. “Also, chill. My foster dad’ll send someone to bail us out soon anyway.” She curled in on herself, the rough material of the clothes she found herself in chafing against her skin.

“Yeah, no. We already been in here a day and a half,” Lonnie said, “We gotta find lawyers or something, man.”

“Fuck the law,” Catra groaned again. All she wanted was to go back to sleep.

“I can't believe you.”

As it turned out, Catra’s foster dad didn't send anyone. Three walls of their cell were cement, and the fourth was glass. The glass wall also contained a door metal door. The door had something like a mail flap at about hip-height, with a barred window near the top. There was nothing in the room but their metal slabs and a metal toilet, with a sink on top of the tank. The air was cold and miserable, and the only way to tell time was by bathroom breaks and when the guards outside changed spots.

“Wanna fight again?” Catra suggested after a while. “To the death this time.”

“Wouldn't be a fair fight,” Lonnie mumbled, gesturing to the sling her arm was in. “Seeing as you fucking stabbed me last time.”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Catra chuckled. Lonnie only rolled her eyes and stared out the window.

Time almost didn't pass. When there were two guards, they’d sometimes talk to each other. Catra tried to read their lips and, but she always wound up getting lost. At one point, she glared at the guard until he looked back at her. She held eye contact with him, keeping her face as neutral as possible. The more time passed, the more confused he looked. At one point, he rapped on the glass and told her to stop. She didn't.

It was later than it should’ve been by the time she realized she wasn't wearing underwear. All she and Lonnie had on were gross, uncomfortable, jail smocks. Catra thanked the universe she wasn't on her period.

“Hey, Lonnie,” She said, “We’re not wearing underwear.”

“I know.”

Most of the time passed flitting in and out of sleep, seeing as there was nothing else to do. Catra’s hands were in so much pain. By the looks of her fingers, she’d definitely broken at least a few of them. She deserved the pain. If Lonnie was right about one thing, it was that she was a cunt. But then again, what else could she be? She partied. She drank, smoked, and chased after someone who would never- And could never- join her. That was a boring, stressful life, and Catra didn't want it anymore. Maybe she didn't need Adora as much as she thought she did…The thought went to rest when the mail slot in their door opened.

“Get up. You’re meeting your case worker.” While Catra was slow to rise and even slower to the door, Lonnie was there in a second. The guard cuffed their hands before opening the door. Accompanied by three other guards, they were lead to another room not far off. The room's contents consisted of a desk in the middle, with two chairs on their side and one on the other. Two metal half-loops protruded from the surface of the table. Everything was blue.

“You, sit,” Said one of the guards. He shoved Lonnie towards one of the chairs by her injured shoulder. She whimpered, and stumbled forward. Catra sent a smug look to the back of her head. Lonnie sat down, hands on her lap. The guard pulled her hands up by the chain of the cuffs and flopped her hands down on the table.

“Hey-” She protested, an edge of pain in her voice.

“Quiet, bitch,” The guard said, as if he were giving her the time of day. He uncuffed her right arm, and attached the right cuff to the metal loop on the table. She whimpered again- It was her left shoulder Catra had stabbed.

As she watched, Catra felt a hand on her back. She sat without being told, and let the guards cuff her right hand to the loop. Once they finished, the guards left. Neither girl was in the mood to talk, so they waited for the door to open. When it finally did, it opened to reveal a tall, thin woman with a briefcase tucked under one arm.

“Hello, ladies,” She said. Her accent was quite disconcerting. “My name is Angella Beoluna, and I am your case worker.”

“Hi,” Lonnie said, standing up. “I’m Lonnie Davis.” Angella gave her a smile and a curt nod, then cast her eyes towards Catra.

“And you are?”

“Don't you already know our names? Shouldn't they be in a file or something?” She asked. Lonnie rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Yes, but I do not know your faces,” Angella replied. “Although I assume you are Catra Driluth?” Catra nodded.

“Very well. Now, let’s get started on your case, shall we?” She sat down across from them, and opened the briefcase. “So. Let’s review your situation.”

“We’re going to jail,” Catra grumbled into her shoulder. Even laying awake on her metal slab was better than this.

“Well, not necessarily. I’m a very good lawyer. I promise to keep you safe.” She placed one hand over Catra’s, with a smile too bright to be genuine on her face. “I will keep you out of prison.” That was rich. She probably only cared about winning trials and collecting her annual bonuses.

“Sure you will,” Catra spat, and yanked her hand as far back as the handcuffs would allow. A frown crossed Angella’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“Are you aware that the minimum sentence you could serve is seven and a half years? Take a moment to think about that. If you started your sentence today, you would be,” Angella paused to look at a file in her briefcase. “Twenty-two years old when you get out. You would be without a high school diploma at the age most people graduate college.”

“Well, I for one, am grateful for your help,” Lonnie said. Catra couldn't see her face, but she was sure Lonnie was shooting Angella a big, phony smile. Fucking bitch.

“You are very welcome, Ms. Davis.”

“Lonnie is fine.”

“Very well, then, Lonnie.” Catra wanted to throw up. Why were they wasting so much time being polite? She already knew how the trial was going to go. She would get sentenced to seven years, and drag Lonnie down with her. They’d spend the next seven years in prison. Catra didn't care. Nobody would miss her anyway. Maybe Adora, but that was unlikely. She didn't have anything to look forward to on the outside either. Her foster dad would find a new foster kid to sell his drugs. If she was lucky, someone would get mad at her and kill her while she was doing time. And Catra had a penchant for getting people to hate her.

Catra also had a penchant for zoning out. She started to zone out back in that room with Angella and Lonnie. Her mind was no longer a part of her decisions. She didn't care enough to lie about what happened. Angella seemed annoyed with her- Which was pretty justified. On the other hand, she didn't have anything to contribute. She attacked Lonnie, they fought, and she stabbed Lonnie’s shoulder with a broken beer bottle. She broke her hands, Lonnie was in a sling, and they were both covered in bruises and scratches. They were drunk while doing it. There was no good or safe way out. Catra didn't care anymore. Nobody would rescue her, or even feel sad.

When Angella had to leave them, Catra and Lonnie entered another unfamiliar room. On one wall was a like of other women. Some were old, some were young, some tattooed all over and others not. They were fat, thin, black, white, and everything in between. It wasn't long before they found out what exactly was going on. Some guards entered, patted them down, then had them strip. Catra sort of expected that, but she hadn't been ready for the piercing eyes of the guards and the harshness in their voices. She hadn't been ready for the commands to turn, squat, and spread herself.

The amount of time spent on the stip search was either far too long or far too little. Either way, Catra was glad it was over. As soon as she could, she pulled on her smock and hugged her arms to her chest, breathing hard. Even though she deserved it, even though she didn't care, this was for real. She was going to prison, and nobody knew except for Lonnie. These were the women she was going to spend the next seven years with.

The next stage of their journey was on the other side of the room. Small badges were written for each woman. Catra stood behind Lonnie, and spent the entire time fighting the impulse to pull her into a hug. She couldn't do that, though. That was almost on par with apologizing, and Lonnie didn't deserve that.

After they got their badges, their group went to another area of the jail. This time, they were put in cells, usually with two or three others, and given the orange prison uniforms. Catra didn't know how she got lucky enough to have Lonnie as a cellmate. And once they were in their cell, all they could do was wait for their trials.

It was a few days into the waiting when the impossible happened: Catra had a visitor. Confused, she allowed a guard to lead her, handcuffed, to a small, pseudo phone booth. There was a desk with two walls on either side, and a phone attached to one of them. In front of the desk, there was a pane of plexiglass. On the other side of the glass was Adora. Upon seeing her, Catra froze. She was mad at Adora right now, she couldn't- Yet there she was, sitting at the desk before the guard could even un-cuff her. After some awkward maneuvering, Catra’s hands were free, and she picked up the phone.

“Adora,” She gasped, “Hi.”

“Hey, Catra…” Adora said, “How’s it going?”

“Not so bad. Got in a fight, got arrested. The usual.” Though her tone was humorous, she glared.

“You shouldn't take this like its a joke,” Adora said slowly. She never did understand sarcasm.

“I’m not.”

“Um, you seem to think this isn't super serious! Catra, what happens when you lose your trial? You do have a trial, right?”

“Of course I have a trial! And what makes you think I’m going to lose it?” Adora shrugged.

“I dunno. Its you.” Catra swallowed her boiling anger.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” She gritted out. What kind of friend said that?

“Well, you know…” Adora shrugged. “You never did try hard in school or anything.”

“Um, yes I fucking did,” Catra growled, her fingers tightening around the phone. Adora raised one eyebrow, still smiling somehow. This was one of those times Catra wanted to punch her right in her shiny white teeth.

“Yeah, right. Care to explain why you always had bad grades?”

“You don't know shit, okay?” Catra hissed, “You don't know shit about me, and you never have. So- So take your fucking grades and go back to your rich girl world.” Adora’s expression finally turned downwards.

“What do you mean? We grew up together. C-Catra, I know everything about you. If you’d tell me what’s wrong-”

“Oh, you want me to tell you? Okay, here it is: My mom died-”

“That was years ago!” Adora shouted, waving her free hand about. “There's no way you're still hung up over that!”

“You don't get to tell me what I feel!” Catra yelled back, heat prickling behind her eyes. She couldn't cry in front of Adora, though. It would make her seem stupid and weak, and Adora would feel justified.

“I wasn't trying to-”

“You can't listen if you don't let me talk,” Catra said, her voice wavering. That seemed to shut Adora up for a minute, as she seemed to think about it.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Go on,” Adora said. Catra sniffled, although she covered it up with a cough.

“After my mom died,” Catra started, trying to keep her voice steady, “I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't even get into a foster home right away. Nobody loved me- Except for you.” Adora seemed to sit a little straighter. “But now? Now everything's fucked. Adora, my dad is a-” She glanced around to see if any guards were listening. “He sells drugs, and sometimes makes me do it for him. He made me sleep outside once because I got a C in math. And I have to pay for everything on my own, but the library went bankrupt, and now I don't even have a job. I- I don't have anything anymore.” Catra sniffled again, and forced her tears to stay in her eyes.

“Oh, Catra, if I had known-” Adora murmured, and lifted one hand to touch the plexiglass. Catra almost mimicked her gesture, but there was something inside her that told her no. “If you had told me-”

“I tried,” Catra sniffled, “Do you know how hard I tried? Because its a lot harder than you think, I can tell you that much.”

“If I were you, I would’ve-”

“Don't tell me what you would’ve done!” Catra raised her voice. “I know you wouldn't be in jail right now, okay?! I know you’re perfect and can do no wrong, and, and-”

“Okay, why do you keep saying that? I’m a person too, Catra. I make mistakes.”

“Not bad ones! Name one bad thing that’s ever happened to you.” Catra was ready to punch Adora again when she didn't have an immediate answer. Catra's list was never ending, and Adora's didn't even exist. She had no right to talk about what Catra should have or could have done.

“I can't believe this,” Catra groaned, “You k of a single thing. So there. You can't tell me how to feel, and you can't tell me I’m not trying.”

“But you’re not!” Adora stood up, “All you ever do is sit around and mope!”

“You would too if you-”

“What, if I were in your shoes?” Adora snapped, “I would stand up to the shitheads who put me there! Because, unlike you, I’m not a goddamn pushover!”

“A pushover?!” Catra felt wetness on her cheeks, and she tried to blink the tears away, but it didn't work. “You have no idea how hard it is-”

“You’re proving my point! So get up, stop treating the world like it owes you something, and get over yourself!”

“You don't get it,” Catra cried, “And you don't get to talk about what's mine,” She slapped a hand to her chest,“When you don't know anything about it!”

“So tell me!”

“This- This is what happens when I tell you!” Adora’s eyes went wide, and she seemed to fall out of the argument. She took a step back, as far as the phone cord would allow.

“Oh, Catra-”

“I’m done with this,” Catra muttered, “Fuck you, Adora! Choke on a dick, for all I care.” Catra slammed the phone down, held up both middle fingers, and backed away. She only made it a few steps before a guard intercepted her and cuffed her hands behind her back. Catra left the conversation feeling better than she had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i hate when fic writers use the name of a kingdom or planet or whatever as a character's surname or school, so Angella and Glimmer's last name is Beoluna, which i took from Brightmoon. beo is part of the German root for bright, and luna means moon in spanish. sounds a lot better than Brightmoon, in my opinion.
> 
> 2\. when catra says lonnie has 10 pounds on her, she means she's muscular. 
> 
> 3\. welp that's all i got for today, folks. thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed that. scorpia is in the next chapter so let's get hype


	4. | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall what's up how are you? I hope everything's been well, but if you haven't, that sucks, and i hope it gets better. 
> 
> Anyway, here we are at another chapter. I dont think there's a whole lot of triggering stuff in this one, aside from the usual. For some reason, this was really hard for me to write. I hope you enjoy! :D

**1988**

* * *

The heat shouldn't have been up so high. The date was May 4th, and the sun was out. Children everywhere were abuzz with anticipation for the summer. Catra should've been one of them, crossing days off a calendar. Instead, school wasn't even on her list of priorities.

After her case, the second thing on her mind was the heat. Even Lonnie's cheeks had turned pink. Catra’s attention was split between the judge and the beads of sweat rolling down her back. Each one made her itch, and she was unable to scratch or wipe it away. Thanks to her shackles, her hands were trapped over her thighs, and Lonnie kicked her under the table when she slouched. At that point, Catra didn't see why she couldn't rub her back against her seat. The trial was pretty much over anyway.

Per Angella’s advice, they both plead guilty to the charge of assault. It wasn't like they could deny it when the police report featured the bottle stabbing. It was a friendly bottle stab. I bottle stab all my closest friends to let them know how much they mean to me. Yeah, right. So far, though, Catra was confident enough. Angella promised them the lightest sentence she could get, and she didn't seem like the type to break her promises. Before the trial started, Angella mentioned that it was unlikely they’d wind up in a real prison. Catra had her doubts. She was an unlucky person, and she knew that when people did bad things, they wound up paying for it. Hell, people wound up paying for it even when they did good things.

Angella’s whole vibe gave her the creeps, too. People didn't help you without incentive. Nobody was forcing her to get them light sentences, or keep them out of prison at all. It would be so easy for her to let them go down. But the trial was nearly over, and Angella didn't matter anymore. The judge was about to read off their sentences.

“Alonza Davis and Catra Driluth are both found guilty of aggravated assault. Both women are sentenced to thirty months at the White Orchid Home for Juvenile Delinquents.” He tapped his mallet once against the stand. “Court adjourned.” After one last week spent in jail, they were moved to the White Orchid Home. One believed their sentence was unfair and the other believed it was equivalent to a slap on the wrist.

The home was about four and a half hours north of New York City, in a town most people would never know the name of. During the ride, they wore their street clothes. Which would have been fine, except it was now mid-May, and Catra’s excessive layering was no longer necessary. And she could do without the handcuffs. What could she possibly get up to in the back of a van? All she could do was stare out the window until everything blurred together, watch Lonnie sleep, and listen to the radio.  _ Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night. Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies. Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light. And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain. _

Catra hung onto every word. For the first time in her life, she paid attention to every obscure detail of the song. It was something that turned a five minute song into an opera, and the car ride into something too long to stomach. Lonnie had the right idea in falling asleep. She was actually kind of pretty when she was asleep- Which was a thought Catra wasn't allowed to have. Maybe, if it was three in the morning and they were sitting on someone’s couch or bedroom floor, that would be okay. If Catra never went to that first party, everything would be okay. But the reality of the situation wasn't such that Catra was allowed to have those hypotheticals. So she forced herself to listen to the music. It wasn't like she deserved any of them anyway.

The last hour of the car ride was spent on a narrow road in a tunnel of trees. The van needed to slow so as not to careen off the road, and Catra could finally see things out the window. Fallen trees, small creeks, the occasional animal. The one thing she couldn't see was the sky. Though sunlight dappled the ground, the windows didn't allow her to get a good enough look at the sky. It was during this time that Catra closed her eyes. Sleep never came, but that was okay. During her time in jail, she learned how to go  without sleep. She could handle it mentally, but it was generally taxing to her eyes after a while. Though she could no longer see where the van was taking her, she didn't mind. Sometimes, a dapple of light would fall through the window and land on her hands, warming them for an instant.

The van stopped while her eyes were closed. She immediately opened them once she felt the van stop. They had emerged from the trees, and the paved road had become dirt. On Lonnie’s side of the car was a house with a gravel path leading up to the porch. Next to the path was a rotting wood sign, with White Orchid Home carved into it. Lichens dotted the sign, a few hanging from the bottom. More buildings dotted the landscape around the house, but Catra couldn't tell what they were from her position.

While she was looking on, the correctional officers in the front seats got out of the car. While they were coming around to her side of the car- Only one side had a working door- she nudged Lonnie awake.

“What?” Lonnie mumbled sleepily. She made a move to rub at her eyes before remembering her hands were chained to her ankles. She seemed to wake up after that.

“We’re here,” Catra whispered, and the door opened. She blinked in the bright light, staring out at one of the guards.

“Get out,” The woman said, and Catra did. It was a challenge to hop out of the car without falling on her face, but she managed it. After Lonnie crawled out of the van herself, the guard slammed the door.

“Move.” Lonnie began shuffling along the dirt path, but Catra took an extra moment to stand and breathe. There was something different in the air out here.

“She said move!” The other guard rumbled, and jabbed at Catra with his baton. She yelped, and waddled after Lonnie. The guard was right, she supposed. She would have plenty of time to breathe over the next thirty months.

They stopped waddling when they reached the porch of the house. One guard remained behind them on the steps while the other shoved past them to rap at the door. It wasn't long before the door opened to reveal a small woman with pigtails down to her waist.

“Oh!” She yelped, turned around, and closed the door. Catra and Lonnie exchanged a look. I have to spent thirty months here? They waited a few minutes longer before the door opened again, this time to reveal another woman. This one was tall, blonde, and looked like a supermodel.

“Hello,” She said in a cool, crisp voice. “Welcome.”

“Mara. Got two new inmates for you,” One guard informed her. The woman furrowed her brows and crossed her arms.

“Girls. They’re not inmates here.” The guard rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.” She pulled a keyring from her belt and bent down to unlock the cuffs around Catra’s ankles. That was even more of a breath of fresh air than the actual fresh air. She rose and unlocked the cuffs around Catra’s wrists and moved on to Lonnie. The chains fell away, and Catra froze. She could run. If she made it to the trees, she could hide, and nobody would find her there. She could definitely outrun the guards. Then her eyes found the gun at the woman’s hip, and she abandoned the fantasy for later.

The guard rose to her full height again after undoing Lonnie’s chains.

“We’ll be back in thirty months.” And they were gone, a cloud of dust following the van into the woods.

“Well,” Said the supermodel, “Welcome to your new home! You can call me Mara. I own this house. Would you like to come inside?” Somehow, the inside of the house was even hotter than it was outside. And it was humid. Catra could feel her hair getting curlier by the second. Keeping her hands at her sides was a herculean effort, but she managed- With the small sacrifice of paying attention to Mara. What she was saying didn't seem too important anyway. Blah blah blah, don't do stupid things, don't try to run away, the usual garbage. It wasn't until she handed each of them a brown sack that Catra started paying attention again.

“Here are your clothes. You are not permitted to wear outside clothing in my home, and expect that you bring me your clothing by the end of the day if not sooner.” She glanced down at a sheet of paper. “You both have school in the mornings and work in the afternoons. Davis, you will be sleeping on the third floor, in room four. Driluth, you're on the second floor in room six. I’ll let you know what jobs you’ll be doing in the morning. Now, let me go find one of the girls to show you around…” The woman trailed off and set her paper down on the desk. She bustled out of the office, and closed the door behind her.

“Damn,” Lonnie murmured.

“Damn,” Catra said in agreement, “This place sucks.”

“What?” Lonnie leaned in closer and squinted at her. “Are you okay in there?”

“Um, yeah? We have to go to school, we have to go to work- Its hardly worth bringing us all the way out here.”

“But that’s the point. We gotta grow and mature as people.”

“Who told you that one, your grandma?” Lonnie groaned, and turned her gaze down.

“America.”

The door opened, saving Catra from responding. Mara was back, and she wasn't alone. Standing behind her was a tall, muscular woman with a captivating air. She had an undercut, bleached white with dark roots. Her arms relaxed at her sides, one of them in a white cast up to the elbow. And her eyes- Her eyes were huge and dark as obsidian. Then her gaze shifted from Mara to Catra, and she had never felt so small.

“Hi!” The woman said. Her voice wasn't quite soft, but it was kind. Friendly. Catra blinked a couple times. What? “I’m Scorpia. What are your names?”

“What?”

“I’m Lonnie.”

“Yes, very good. Girls, this is Scorpia. She’s going to show you around and help you get settled in,” Mara said, putting one hand on Scorpia’s shoulder. “I know you may think that because this is an alternative to prison, everyone here must be bad or evil in some way. That’s not true. You can find good people anywhere. All you have to do is look hard enough.” She paused, and glanced back at Scorpia. “Well, that’s that I suppose. I will see you young ladies this evening.” She nodded, and returned to her desk. Silence permeated the room long enough to bring Catra’s eyes to the floor before someone spoke.

“Okay then, I guess we better get going!” Scorpia had a cheerful voice. It was unnerving- Catra hadn't expected anyone she met here to be happy. They should have been miserable and hate their lives. That’s what happened when you went to prison.

“Great,” Lonnie said. That was the type of voice Scorpia should've had. Bored, indifferent, with anger right below the surface. Unfortunately, as she was contemplating their voices, Scorpia and Lonnie were on their way out, and Catra was still standing there like a dope. She almost tripped herself getting out, and closed the door loud enough for it to slam behind her.

“Before we get going, do you guys have any questions?” Scorpia asked, clasping her hands in front of her.

“How’d you break your arm?” Catra asked. Lonnie shot her a dirty look, but Scorpia didn't appear to notice.

“Oh, this?” She glanced down at her cast. “I fell out of a tree.”

“What were you doing in the tree?” Catra asked. If they were allowed to climb trees, this place just got a lot better. 

“Looking at the cherries. I, uh, I work outside. Everybody here has a job, but most people work on the farm. You have to earn your stay, you know?” Catra rolled her eyes, but nodded anyway. That was the most dumbest thing she'd ever heard. This wasn't a damn vacation, it was a more inclusive halfway house.  

“That’s interesting,” Lonnie said, “What’s it like?” Scorpia perked up a little.

“I can show you! Come on, follow me.” She lead them outside and behind the house. Closest to the house was a large shed, and a barn.

“So, this is the barn. We have some horses, goats, sheep, a cow- That stuff. Oh! Are either of you allergic to cats or dogs?” Both girls shook their heads. “Oh, that’s great! Also, we have a cat and some dogs. I don't know where they are right now, but they should be around here somewhere…Greg! Stacy! Ginger!” Scorpia called out, eyes fixed on the barn. The wait was excessive for a couple dogs, but sure enough, three dogs came tearing out of the barn. And shit, they were huge. Two of them reached Catra’s waist, and though the third was smaller, it was loud and fast.

“They're called Greg, Stacy, and Ginger?” Lonnie asked, judgement in her voice.

“Yup!” Scorpia said, going down to her knees. “Hey, guys! How are you today?” With her good hand, she began scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. Another pawed at her cast and whined. “Oh, Stacy,” She murmured, and lifted her arm to awkwardly stroke the dog’s back with her fingertips.

“I got you, Stacy,” Lonnie said, and knelt down to pet the dog.  

“Huh, cute,” Catra bit out.

“They sure are!” Scorpia said, glancing up at her. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry. What's your name?”

“Catra.”

“That’s a nice name.” Catra took a step back, shocked. Nobody had ever told her that before. Most people said it was weird, crazy, gross. Who named their kid after an animal? Well, her and Scorpia’s parents, it seemed.

“Th- Um, thanks…” Scorpia didn't hear, though. She was too invested in petting the dogs.

“This one, right here, is Greg,” She was saying, “And the one you’re petting is Stacy. The little one over there is Ginger. He might be small, but he’s fast, and sometimes he can get feisty, so make sure to keep an eye on him at dinner time!” There was something about all this that got under Catra’s skin. Why was Scorpia being so nice to them? They were two random fucked up kids. She didn't gain anything from it, either. She must’ve been an employee or something. There was no way someone at a home for juvenile delinquents was actually this nice.

Catra never bent down to pet the dogs. She never liked dogs. They were big, drooled a lot, and dumb. Cats were the superior small domestic animal.  

Once Lonnie and Scorpia had enough dog-petting, they returned to the tour- The next phase of which was the barn. There was a small group of girls in the barn, all clustered at the far end. They lounged on bales of hay and leaned against the walls, chattering amongst themselves. As soon as Scorpia walked in, most sat up a little straighter, and two said hello. A third asked when Zara was coming. Scorpia smiled and shrugged.

“You know I can't control my sister,” She called, and the other girl huffed. “She visits sometimes,” She explained as they left the barn. On the other side, there appeared to be an actual farm. Rows and rows of plants extended down towards a massive lake, and beyond that were rows of trees. Girls and women were all over the farm- Tending to plants, sitting on the ground, up trees, everywhere.

“So, this is the farm. Its super great, because we grow pretty much everything here. There’s all sorts of stuff out here- Squash, lettuce, potatoes, tomatoes, corn, rutabaga, cabbage, you name it! And over there, in the orchards, there’s even more! I think there’s even some watermelons growing somewhere, but I work in the orchards, ‘cause, ya know. I’m tall.” Damn right you are, Catra found herself thinking, but forced herself to stop. That was hypothetical territory again.

“So, like, how do you start working?” Lonnie asked.

“Oh! That’s actually pretty interesting…” The rest of their tour was mostly the same. There was the farm, the schoolhouse, and the basketball court, and down beyond all that was the lake. That was pretty much it, but Scorpia managed to make it take up at least an hour or two. If this were Catra’s job, she’d have been done by now, and the new girls would be waiting in their bedrooms for something to happen.

By the time they made it back to the front of the house, the sun was lower in the sky. It was the time before the golden hour, leaving them with an awkward amount of time to fill and nothing to do. Catra would soon learn that this was commonplace at the White Orchid home, and she'd never learn what to do about it. Rather than try to take them somewhere else or teach them anything new, the trio sat on the front porch.

“So…What did you think?” Catra shrugged. Her candid answer was ‘not much,’ but from what she observed, it couldn't hurt to be friends with Scorpia. The girl was knowledgeable on the goings on of the house, had left before, and had people who came to visit her. She was friendly, too, and either a genius or dumb as dirt. And she had done something bad enough that she could’ve gone to prison.

“Beats jail,” Lonnie mumbled. Scorpia gave an obligatory smile.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely agree on that one.” She glanced over her shoulder, gritted her teeth, and looked back. “If you’re okay with talking about it…What did you do?” What did they do? On paper, it was assault and underage drinking. If you looked deeper into things, you’d know they had history. While in jail, Catra reached the conclusion that the fight had to happen. She’d never been friends with Lonnie, and she was happy to keep it that way. Then things got worse, and they turned into- Rivals? Enemies? She didn't know. And the only way to fix it was by fighting. Except, most times, you could win a fight. This time, nobody did.

“We was at this party, got drunk. Got in a fight, cops showed up. And they arrested us,” Lonnie said. Catra rolled her eyes. She was trivializing the whole thing. Then again, Scorpia didn't give a shit.

“Both of you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Catra scoffed. She looked Scorpia up and down before speaking again.

“What’d you do?” Scorpia’s exhaled slowly, as if releasing smoke from her mouth.

“I, uh. I broke into someone’s house and stole his car keys,” She said. 

“Damn. That’s almost badass,” Catra said, “Why’d you do it?”

“Shit, girl, you got real lucky,” Lonnie said at almost the same time, “How much time did you get?” Scorpia’s eyes bounced between them before landing on Lonnie.

“Well, that’s kind of complicated.” She moved her legs underneath her. “‘Cause most people who burgle- Which, by the way, is such a good word-”

“Sure,” Lonnie said. She looked so focused. It wasn't a foreign look on her face, but the context was almost enough to make Catra laugh. She didn't give a flying fuck about what Scorpia did. There was no reason to. The point was that she had someone who cared enough to save her.

“Burglary can get you up to twenty years, so I was really scared, but I only wound up with three. What about you, how much time do you have?”

“Thirty months,” Lonnie spat, “And I didn't even do anything.”

“You started the goddamn fight!” Lonnie rolled her eyes.

“Is that so? ‘Cause I remember you throwing the first punch!” Lonnie shoved Catra away, crossing her arms.

“Well I remember you-”

“Hey, hey! Come on, now! Do you want to fight again?” Scorpia asked, in a calm- But not un-worried- voice.

“I can always throw hands if I need to,” Catra growled, glaring at Lonnie.

“Oh my God-”

“Okay, okay, why don't you calm down? There’s no need to fight, especially when fighting’s what got you here in the first place,” Scorpia interjected again. She leaned forward now, as if readying herself to pounce if things got ugly. Catra raised her nose and glared, offended that Scorpia thought she was dumb enough to fight Lonnie here of all places. No, thank you. She'd have to figure out how to get away with fighting before she could go starting shit.

“I’m super calm,” Catra said, and looked away from Lonnie to prove it.

“You wouldn't know calm if it fucked you backwards,” Lonnie muttered. Catra gritted her teeth. She hardly managed to send Lonnie a wicked look instead of a punch hard enough to knock her out.

“You know, Lonnie,” She drawled, “It’s your fault I’m here too. I didn't fight myself back there.”

“No shit. But you bein’ pissed makes no sense when you threw the first punch in a fight _you_ started!”

“Except I _didn't_ start it. And you can get over yourself. Your shoulder's fine now, so shut the fuck up.”

“Hey! Hey, why don't we talk about something nice? Uh, I heard the cow is pregnant. We’re going to have a baby cow soon, isn't that nice?” Scorpia said, tilting forward. Catra supposed that was nice. Baby animals were kind of cute. But by the time the mother cow gave birth, she’d be well annoyed with the baby. And, hey, wait a second…

“Wait, so who’s going to deliver the baby?”

“That's a good question, and I do not know. Mara’ll probably call a vet or something. I can find out for you if you want, though.” Catra shook her head, humming.

“Nah.” This place was so different from jail. If there had been a point to this stupid place, it was lost on her. There was too much freedom. On the tour alone, she’d noticed plenty of ways to get into trouble. Not that she was planning on it, but if this place really wanted to set her on some righteous path, they needed to try harder. Like, if she were in Scorpia’s shoes, she would’ve cut off the sleeves off that shirt by now. It was far too hot outside for anybody to be wearing a full tee-shirt. But maybe she thought that because of her black jeans and heavy flannel.

“Wait, now I got a question,” Lonnie piped up, “When you broke your arm, they straight up took you to the hospital?”

“Well, yeah,” Scorpia chuckled, lifting her broken arm. She wiggled her fingers before she continued talking. “I mean, it looked like I had a second elbow, and nobody here knew what to do other than wrap it in a blanket.”

“Woah.” That was all Catra could manage to say. In her entire life, nobody had ever done something like that for her. When she broke her foot in fifth grade, she had to convince her foster parents of an injury before they took her to the hospital. They didn't believe her at first, and wrapped her up in Ace bandages instead. Her foot swelled up so much that it was too big for her shoe. Only then did she get to see a doctor. Her foster parents never bought her another thing for all the time she stayed with them.

“I don't like that,” Lonnie grumbled, “You know, if you break something in jail, there’s a jail doctor. You don't get to go to some fancy hospital.”

“Oh, yeah, I was lucky,” Scorpia said, “Most of the time, if you get hurt, you have to live with it.” Before anyone could say anything else, the front door opened.

“Oh, hello there!” It was Mara, cheery smile plastered across her face and all. “It’s about time for dinner. You girls can go wash up now, if you’d like.” And she was on her way, down the stairs and around the house. The three girls got up after a minute and went in. They were the first people at the dinner table. Catra almost didn't understand. She hardly remembered the last time she ate dinner at a table. More often than not, she ate while standing or not at all. And food was already out on the table, too. What kind of juvie home was this place?

As more girls trickled in, Catra found herself falling into a debate: Should she eat dinner tonight? She hadn't eaten in about two days-  The food at the jail was disgusting. It was some of the worst shit anyone could eat, and it was fattening. On the other hand, the food set out before her now looked really good. There was color on the table, something she’d seldom seen before. In the end, she forced herself to eat. Only half a tomato and some lettuce, though.

But she couldn't let herself get used to it. She couldn't let herself get used to anything about this house. The place was too soft, too kind. There must’ve been a catch.

After the dinner was over, there was free time. Scorpia left the dinner table with some other girls, leaving Catra and Lonnie alone together. They took the opportunity to separate and wandered in opposite directions. Catra’s wandering lead her to the basketball court. There were already girls gathering under one of the hoops, getting ready to play.

Basketball sounded like a good use of her free time. The sport would make her strong, and give her an excuse to drop a bitch if she needed one. That night, Catra didn't try to get involved. She only sat on the sidelines with her head in her hands, watching. These girls looked like they'd grown up playing basketball. They were so fast, dribbled and shot with confidence, even when they failed.

When the sky turned a soft purple, the court thinned out. Catra hadn't been alone in watching the game, but once the air began to cool and lightning bugs began to blink, she was. The longer she watched, the more she noticed. Every person on the court had rage on her face. Instead of each other, they beat the ball into the cement and the cracked wooden backboards. And their muscles were so defined, from calves to shoulders. Now, Catra wasn't weak by any means. But she could always stand to be stronger. The next time she got in a fight, she’d be able to hit that much harder. Basketball was very attractive to her.

When morning came, Catra gave her street clothes to Mara got her job assignment: The barn. That was all Mara said to her- Catra, you’ll be working in the barn. No further instructions. She had school in the morning- Which was a major fucking joke. It was around thirty girls ranging from middle school aged to eighteen crammed into a dark, humid box. Catra wanted to leave from the second she walked in. Before she could turn around, she spotted Scorpia, leaning against the wall and talking with another girl. She looked so calm. How could she be calm when this was her life?

And then Scorpia noticed her. She smiled, and raised her good arm to wave.

“Hey, Catra!” Shit. “Come sit with us!” Double shit. Catra tried to shake her head. Just as she did, something connected with her back and she stumbled forward. She whirled around, one fist clenched, to find that it was only Lonnie.

“What the fuck, Lonnie?”

“You were in my way,” She said, and wandered through the classroom until she found a seat near the front. Fucking tryhard. Catra glanced around the room for an empty seat. They appeared to be a rarity. She’d have to sit with Scorpia then. Great. Not that there was anything super wrong with that. Scorpia was just…so upbeat. Catra didn't know how to deal with it. So she didn't. She sat next to Scorpia and kept her mouth shut. For almost five hours straight. With nothing to listen to but an old man talk about chemistry, algebra, grammar, and the history of the United States. By the time ‘class’ was over for the day, Catra was itching to jump out of her seat and run straight for the barn.

“So, Catra,” Scorpia said, “What did you think of your first day of school?” Catra shrugged.

“If he wanted me to stay awake, he could’ve tried talking in more than one tone.”

“Oh, yeah, Norwyn’ll do that to you. But don't worry, he’s actually pretty nice,” Said the girl on Scorpia’s other side. “Hey, I haven't seen you around here before. What’s your name?” After some introductions, Catra learned that the girl’s name was Melanie, and she worked in the orchards with Scorpia.

Pretty much as soon as the door opened, Catra was gone. She abandoned Scorpia and Melanie in favor of the barn, where she was able to collapse into a stack of hay bales for a couple minutes. Even though it wasn't much time, she was able to let her guard down for a few precious moments while everybody else ate lunch. That is, until the cat came into the picture. Almost as soon as she laid down on the hay bales, a cat appeared- Seemingly out of nowhere- and stood right on her stomach.

“Oh, come on!" She groaned, “Can you move?” The cat did not. Even when Catra sat up, it stayed on her lap. After a quick inspection, she found the cat’s collar, and that its name was Reginold. Pretty weird name for a cat. Mara must’ve thought giving people names to pets was funny, considering the dogs’ names were Greg, Stacy, and Ginger. As Catra lifted a hand to pet Reginold, he jumped off her lap and scrambled away. He ran across the floor and leapt up a ladder, into the hay loft above. Woah. That was pretty sweet.

“What are you doing in here?” Catra’s eyes snapped to the door of the barn. Four girls crowded around the entrance. The sun outside was too bright for them to be anything more than silhouettes.

“I, um. I work here now,” She said, getting to her feet. The other girls came more into the barn, and Catra could see them a little better.

“Welcome,” Said one her arms crossed. There was not a single ounce of welcoming in her voice.

“I guess you need someone to tell you what to do or something,” Another girl said, “You do it, Leila.” 

“Fuck you, Tammy.” She wound up showing Catra what to do anyway. The morning group fed and watered the animals, but it was their job to keep things running. They got to walk the animals out into the pasture, and sometimes even ride the horses. They looked after the chickens, milked the goats and the cow, and collected honey from the bees. Catra wasn't too fond of that part.

“You’re lucky we already woke the hives for summer,” Leila told her. Catra agreed. She couldn't stand bees.

But there was a catch. Catra was new, which meant she got the worst job. She should’ve seen it coming. Her job was to shovel manure and move hay bales around. It wasn't long before her palms erupted with blisters and her back was forever sore. Her only source of relief was the showers. The water came from the lake, cold enough to cover her arms in goosebumps even during the hottest days of summer. The only downside of showering was that the showers were outside.

 

* * *

Catra first managed to stir the pot about two weeks after she first arrived. The sun was unforgiving, and being in the barn was hardly better than being outside. She had no way of telling time other than when her hair popped out of a headband she made when she cut off the sleeves of her shirt. They were rotten shirts, and it was a rotten headband. Catra leaned against a post, fixing her headband and wishing for death, when a girl a little older than her walked into the barn.

“You're not supposed to be here,” She growled. The girl jumped, eyes wide. She held her hands close to her chest.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I didn't see you there.” She fidgeted, then stuck out her hand as if she wanted Catra to shake it. As if they weren't thirty feet apart. “My name’s Darla.”

“Catra.”

“You work in the barn, right?”

“Why else would I be here?” Darla paused to glance around.

“Okay. So, I need a favor.” Catra pushed herself off the post, her interest piqued.  

“What kind of favor?” She asked, beginning to stalk circles around Darla.

“My boyfriend is at the boys’ house across the lake. He’s turning eighteen on Tuesday.”

“Cool. Why do I care?” Catra asked, finally coming to a stop in front of Darla.

“Because,” Darla dropped her voice, “We wanna have sex before he goes away to a real prison. And the barn is the best place.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Catra scoffed. “Why should I help you?” Darla smirked, and raised one finger. She pulled up the edge of her shirt, revealing a pack of Marlboro Lights tucked into her waistband.

“Shit. How’d you get that all the way out here?” Catra asked, her eyes glued to the cigarettes. God, it had been so long since the last time she had one...

“Hook me up and they’re all yours,” Darla said, eyes hard and serious.

“You didn't answer my question,” Catra replied, “Where’d you get ‘em?”

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder if you ain’t gonna give me a time and a day.” Catra tried to fix her with the angriest look she could come up with, but Darla’s expression didn't change.

“Fine. Sunday, right after curfew.” Darla grinned.

“See, that wasn't so hard, was it? I got ‘em from Zara. If you snitch, I’ll know.” Darla backed away, still holding eye contact with Catra.

“Dude, my cigarettes?”

“You’ll get ‘em after,” Darla giggled, and was on her way. Catra couldn't help but roll her eyes. Darla had no idea what she was in for. Catra would gladly watch her destroy what little freedom she had left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if that chapter felt a little slow, especially after the last one. Not every chapter can be violence and trauma.
> 
> Also, anybody wanna get hyped for the next chapter?? there's gonna be all sorts of cool stuff, like basketball and some Quality Interactions between Scorpia and Catra
> 
> PS, the song Catra heard on the radio was The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. It's a quite good song and i recommend you go listen to it. That song is also on a playlist that I made for this fic. If anybody wants to listen to that, please let me know and I'll drop a link over on my tumblr (urmomsstuntdouble). 
> 
> On an unrelated note, does anyone know how to make hyperlinks in the notes?? pls am bad with technology.
> 
> I think that's all for now folks. Feel free to drop a comment telling me what you thought, or yell at me on tumblr. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time :P


	5. | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyoooooo welcome back to another chapter of The White Orchid. we comin achu today with a whole bunch of wordssssss
> 
> this time, catra's gonna get sad/mad, and scorpia's gonna try to befriend her, and lonnie is gonna be doing fine.
> 
> trigger warnings: some fucked up thoughts/ways of thinking, an injury
> 
> enjoy :)

The excitement of having a pack of cigarettes wore off once Catra figured out she had no way of lighting them. She could sneak into the kitchen and light them on the stove, but that was too much effort. And she’d probably get in trouble, seeing as she didn't know anybody who worked there. Were the girls even allowed in the kitchen, or was there some sort of staff? Did Mara cook? Darla acted like some sort of jackass genie- You can have your smokes but you can't use 'em.  

“Fuck you, Darla!” She shouted, and banged her head against the side of the barn. They should've been in and out in five minutes.  She never signed up to supervise a big romantic thing where they had synchronized orgasms or whatever the fuck. What did she owe Darla? She should’ve been gone by now. Yet, here she was, guarding their gross fuckin’ love shack. Those better be some damn good cigarettes, she thought. For Darla’s sake. 

When they did finish, her boyfriend emerged first. With wild hair and a neck full of hickeys, he gave her a curt nod before slinking around to the other side of the barn. Catra stared after him, confused. Darla could do so much better than him, on looks alone. Catra was about ready to demand another box of cigarettes. 

She got to her feet, stretched her legs, and barged into the barn. 

“Fucking hell, Catra!” Darla shouted, “Warn me next time, Jesus!” Catra narrowed her eyes, confused. She could see okay in the dark, but Darla didn't appear to be anywhere in the barn. 

“Up here, dumbass.” Ah. The loft. That would explain it. 

“Get down here,” Catra demanded, “You owe me a pack of cigarettes.” Darla rolled her eyes. She disappeared into the loft, and reappeared moments later. A small box came falling from the loft. It was far enough from Catra that she needed to move to catch it. She waited with the box clenched in her hand for Darla to come down. 

“Darla,” She said, voice saccharine, “Is there a lighter hidden around here I’m supposed to know about?”

“What?” Darla asked, hugging herself. “What do you mean, a lighter? And why are you still here?”

“These are useless if I don't have a lighter. I bet that’s why you came to me in the first place. I’m new here, but I’m not fucking stupid. So where’s the goddamn lighter?” Darla’s eyes went wide, and she seemed to shrink into herself. 

“Dude, chill. First off, there ain’t no lighter. Second, that’s your own damn business. I’m not your prison wife, so don't expect me to go lighting shit for you.” With that, Darla was gone. Catra rolled her eyes so hard she could’ve blinded herself. There wasn't a point in trading away cigarettes if there was no way to light them. There was no point in having cigarettes if nobody could smoke them! Why was she- Nevermind. Finding a way to light the cigarettes was her newest problem. She couldn't expect everything to be perfect at the most upbeat juvie home on the face of the Earth. 

At least not everyone was so jovial all the time. The girls in the barn were always pissed at each other. Catra sat apart from them when they lazed around after work. Sometimes, she left the barn and wandered elsewhere- Mostly the orchard. It was the only place outside with any shade, and had a Lonnie and a Scorpia for her to make fun of. At some point, Lonnie decided they weren't on speaking terms anymore, which made it so much more fun to harass her. 

Scorpia, however, was different. Her every instinct screamed it was fake. Her warm smiles and all the pencils she’d lent Catra at school were part of some ulterior motive- They had to be. What kind of person kept giving someone pencils when they kept losing them? Sometimes, Scorpia was even left without a writing utensil after. Who did that? There was definitely something off about her. But maybe she would be able to help Catra find a lighter… 

“Hey. Catra.” 

“Ugh, what do you want?” Catra asked, picking her head up from her desk. If school on the outside was bad, school at the home was abhorable. She was halfway sure their teacher was just some guy off the street.

“Are you okay?” Scorpia asked, doing a poor impression of a whisper. Catra rolled her eyes, and glanced up at their supposed teacher. 

“I’m fine,” She whispered back, “I told you I was fine.” 

“Well, yeah, but, you know…” Scorpia trailed off. She glanced around, as though looking for cue cards, before looking back at Catra. “If you ever need anything, let me know, okay? I love helping people.” Catra snorted.

“Yeah, me too.” She shook her head. What kind of game was Scorpia trying to play?

“Really?” 

“Yeah, and if  _ you _ need anything, you know where to find  _ me _ .” Catra could hardly stop herself from laughing. 

“Aww, thanks! You know, I think-” 

“Scorpia? Did you have something to say?” Their teacher turned around, sending her a very pointed glare. 

“No, sir,” She said, and shrank down into herself. “Oops.” Catra snorted.

“Nice,” She muttered, and shifted around in her seat. It had always been difficult for her to sit still, but it was even harder when she had to sit in the same chair all morning. All she could do was contort her legs into new positions and talk to Scorpia. The whole concept of education at the home was a joke. Catra had yet to find out if there were even grades. 

“Thank you,” Scorpia mumbled back. It was not possible for Catra to roll her eyes hard enough. 

“You know, if you’re so into helping people…” She whispered, and glanced around. Nobody appeared to be listening, although you never knew. Eavesdropping was one of Catra’s favorite activities. Rather than say it aloud, she opened her notebook to a random page and wrote, along the top: I need a lighter. Scorpia pursed her lips as she read. 

“I can totally hook you up with one,” She whispered, “What’s it for?”

“Arson.” Scorpia’s face lit up, a smile splitting her cheeks. 

“Really? I have a friend at the boy’s house who-” 

“Scorpia!” The teacher spoke up again, looking very cross. 

“Sorry! Again!” She shouted. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink- Catra laughed at that internally- and she sank down into her seat. With her good hand, she made a motion of zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key. For the rest of class, Catra kept a close eye on her in case she said something, or wrote it in the notebook. She didn't. Watching Scorpia was still more interesting than actually paying attention could ever be. 

After class, Catra accompanied her to lunch. She hadn't eaten a real meal since arriving, although she spent a lot of time in the dining room. Harassing Scorpia and Lonnie had no schedule, after all.

“So, the lighter?” She hissed, tracing the bowl of her spoon. 

“Oh, right! I think I have one in my pillowcase,” Scorpia said, “And did I tell you about my friend? He’s at the boy’s house for arson. Did you know him before you got arrested?” 

“No,” Catra said, not even considering it. She didn't particularly want to know any of Scorpia’s friends. At the moment, she was more focussed on how loud Scorpia was. 

“Oh! Well, its a long story, but-” Catra slammed her hand down on the table in front of Scorpia. 

“Focus.” 

“But I-” 

“No one gives a shit about your friends. Especially the ones that aren't  _ here _ !” Catra slammed her spoon into the table, sent Scorpia a glare, and left the house. She spent the remainder of her day limping around the barn as she shoveled and swept. By now, calluses had started to form on her hands. They made her work much less painful, and her hands uglier. She’d care if she knew anyone interested in her hands. Nobody was. 

Around four, she climbed into the hayloft. It was a peculiar place. Hay bales were stacked to the roof, and about a foot of loose straw covered the floor. Straw tainted by Darla and her boyfriend. She sat down on a nearby stack of bales, letting her feet dangle off the side. This would be a terrible place to have sex, she thought. Straw scratched at her back through her shirt, and there was hardly enough room on the bale. At the same time, she supposed Darla was lucky.  

When free time began, Catra returned to the house. There was a poker game set for tonight, and she’d be damned if she was late. It might be a way to get her hands on a lighter. Before her hand could touch the front door, it swung open. Lonnie stood on the other side. As soon as their eyes met, the light drained from her face. 

“Catra,” She said, her voice steady.

“Lonnie.” Lonnie scoffed, and pushed past her. She stepped lightly and had a casual sway in her hips. Catra couldn't bear to watch.  

* * *

One night around the start of June, Catra joined a game of basketball for the first time. From the minute she stepped on the court, she felt out of place, uncomfortable- Which was fine. She had been uncomfortable for fifteen years. Though this was a little different from other kinds of discomfort. Her arms weren't as big as everyone else’s, she slouched, and her hair wasn't in a ponytail.  Putting her hair up had always been unnerving. 

As soon as the game started, Catra discovered that she knew nothing about basketball. It was hard, harder than she thought it would be. She could sort of shoot and dribble, by virtue of once having a friend who played religiously. What got her was the amount of touching. There was almost always a pair of hands touching her back or her arms, and every single one sent a shock to her brain. She’d known basketball involved physical contact, but experiencing it was a new issue. Every touch sent her on a nervous rampage, whether gentle or otherwise. 

“You good?” She was asked many times. Each time, she replied with a quick I’m fine. There were too many people, too close. She couldn't see the ball anymore, couldn't see the hoops. Someone’s hand brushed against her back, and she jolted away, but they followed. It was like the sweat ran up her back that night. _Stop,_ she begged, _stop touching me._ As if it wasn't part of the deal. _No, shit, shit. Stop._ As she jumped to block a shot, she could see the individual grains of brown in the girl’s eyes. They were _too close._  

Though Catra managed to block the shot, she gleaned no satisfaction. Her heart begged her to walk off the court. It was too late, she reminded herself. She had to stick it out until the sky went purple. 

Or until her body hit the court and she couldn't pop up again. Her muscles launched a full scale revolt when she tried to move. The game moved to the other end of the court, but she stayed put. The ground wasn't so bad. Nobody could touch her while she clung to the ground. She was safe. All she needed to do was breathe, and discern what parts of her body complained the loudest. _Thank God-_  

“Is she okay?” 

“Shit, that looked nasty.” 

“She's gotta go.” 

“Oh, shit…” 

Catra didn't have the strength to say anything else. There wasn't anything she could say, anyway. She didn't belong on the basketball court, and everyone knew it. Of course she didn't. It was stupid to even think about playing. Even before she got arrested, paying for the shoes alone was out of the question. _Stupid, stupid Catra-_

“Hey! Hey Catra!” That was new. “Are you okay?” She lifted her head, opened her eyes, and glanced around. The game had stopped by now, and she could feel the annoyance of the players. Instead of wasting another second of their time, she pushed herself up and waddled to the grass. 

“Excuse me, sorry- Catra!” She glanced up again, panting. That was the same voice as before, the same person who asked if she was okay. By a quick process of elimination, it was Scorpia, the nicest fucking person on the face of the Earth. 

“Hey,” Catra mumbled, scanning the area around the court. It wasn't long before Scorpia plowed through the small crowd and reached her side. 

“Are you okay? That looked like a pretty bad fall.” Catra nodded, hiding her throbbing left ankle behind her right. 

“I’m great,” She lied. Scorpia didn't look convinced. 

“You know, you’re bleeding a lot right now.” Catra furrowed her brows. She was? After a quick self-examination, she sound that Scorpia was right. Scrapes and scratches littered her body, and a steady drip of blood came from her nose. 

“Shit, man, you’re right.” 

“If, um, if you need, I can help you get cleaned up.” Catra snorted. 

“I’m good,” She muttered, “If I can't play, I’ll watch.” Scorpia hummed. 

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re pretty bloody right now.” 

“Yeah. I’m fine,” She said, arms crossed. “Why do you even care?” Scorpia looked confused. 

“What?” 

“You know what? Never mind. I'm out of here. See you later.” Catra spun around and started towards the house. She didn't make it far before her body rejected the idea and sent her tumbling to the grass. Using her left ankle was about the same as trying to walk with one foot in a bear trap. 

“Sure you’re okay?” Catra threw a venomous glance over her shoulder. 

“I’m fine.” She took a few short, hopping steps to prove it. At this rate, she’d hardly make it back to her room before midnight. 

“Okay, you’re not fine,” Scorpia announced, and was at her side in a couple strides. “We’re going inside, and you’re gonna sit down, okay?” 

“Dude, it doesn' even hurt.” 

“Nope! You've gotta make sure you're healthy.” Catra glanced at Scorpia’s cast. It was a little dirty when they met. By now, the cast was a grayish yellow. 

“Fine,” She spat, “Let’s go inside or whatever.” They made their way inside, winding up in the kitchen after a considerable amount of hopping. Catra finally relaxed when she sat down on the counter, swinging her legs. As per usual, the air was stale and heavy.   

The perk to being inside the house was the screen doors and windows. More often than not, they were closed, which meant there were no bugs inside. Though they worked different jobs, Scorpia and Catra were both covered in bug bites. Scorpia had it worse, often appearing to have hundreds of bright red freckles.

“Damn,” She murmured after seeing herself in the reflection on the side of a pot. 

“Yeah,” Scorpia said, “That’s why I rushed you in here.” 

“I kind of like it,” Catra continued, “It looks like I’ve got stories to tell.” 

“You do.” She snorted. 

“Like what? Oh, yeah, I got all these scars by being shit at basketball-” 

“Hey, you tried. Sometimes, that’s what’s more important.” Catra lowered the pan away from her face. She’d never met anyone who talked like Scorpia. How hard you tried didn't mean shit. Out of everyone at the house, Scorpia should’ve known that best. After all, if trying was so important, neither of them would’ve been there. Catra would be in Manhattan right now, and Scorpia would be…wherever she lived before. By her own logic, they should've never met. 

“How the fuck did you wind up here?” Scorpia’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I got arrested for burglary. Didn't I already tell you that?” Catra rolled her eyes. 

“Never mind.” 

“But- Okay. Sure. So, you looked like you were having a hard time walking?” Catra nodded. 

“Y-Yeah,” She breathed, and glanced around the kitchen. It was a small room tucked away near the back of the house. From the looks of it, Catra would assume it belonged to some nice old woman in the Midwest. Neither she nor Scorpia belonged there. 

“Okay! I guess you should take off your shoes?” Catra did. Her left ankle was dark purple, and a few sizes larger than her right. It was ugly, so she hid it behind her right calf.  

“Ooh, that looks pretty bad,” Scorpia mumbled, “Can I touch it?”

“No.” 

“Oh,” She frowned, then her eyes lit up. “Hey, what if we-” Rather than finish her sentence, Scorpia found a dishtowel, wet it, and placed it in the freezer. “And then you sleep with it!”

“Um, can you try again in English?” 

“The towel will freeze, right? Then you wrap it around your ankle while you’re sleeping and hopefully everything’s better in the morning.” Huh. That was actually kind of smart. 

“What if someone finds out? You know, that we stole it?” 

“Oh, I wouldn't exactly consider this stealing.” Catra lowered her head, stared at her dangling feet. Who was she? 

“What would you consider it?” When Scorpia didn't answer, she looked up. The girl looked lost in thought, the hand of her broken arm near her face. For the first time, Catra took her in. Though she had a tall and muscular physique, she was soft. Her shoulders gentle, her legs crossed under her hips. Catra once heard that dye was bad for hair, that it would become like straw once you colored it. But Scorpia’s hair looked soft, almost fluffy.  

“Borrowing,” Scorpia finally decided, “‘Cause, you know, we do live here too.” 

“You can steal from someone you live with.” 

“Sure. Yep,” Scorpia sighed, and leaned against the counter next to Catra. “But also. No one ever said we couldn't do that.” 

“You are…Smarter than I thought you were,” Catra grumbled. 

“Thank you? I think.” Catra glanced away, the back of her neck prickling. What was that? She needed a nap, or something. Though she had no reason not to, she couldn't turn back around. Something hard settled in her stomach, like she’d eaten a lot of bread. Had she remained in New York, she’d be able to deal with it, but here? There was nothing but trees- And if she ran far enough, Canada. 

And that was it. Catra was nothing, she had nothing, and she would continue to have nothing for the rest of her life. It was more than time she was losing, it was everything. Adora, Tamari, even her piece of shit foster dad- They were all out there, free. Their actions made them people, and Catra wanted to be a person too. But she was a criminal, a number, a statistic. If she wanted to be anything more, she should’ve controlled her temper better. 

Despite the pretense of kindness at the White Orchid Home, Catra couldn't forget her status as a felon. She was bad, did bad things, and deserved to be punished for it. Just like each and every one of the young women living in the house. They were all evil little nothings, in one way or another. Which was why it made no sense for Scorpia to want to help her. What was worth all this? Catra wasn't going to give it to her. She was so, so tired of being some vessel for people’s wish fulfillment. 

“Hey,” She said, voice low. 

“Mm-hmm?” Catra turned back around, facing Scorpia. 

“Get the fuck out.” 

“What?” 

“Get the fuck out,” Catra hissed, her eyes prickling. 

“Are you okay? Do you wanna-”

“I said fuck off!” Catra hopped down from the counter. She couldn't bear falling for some stupid shit about friendship or love another time. She was over it. 

“Catra-” She put on the most menacing face she could manage, and though she felt stupid, it seemed to work. Scorpia seemed to deflate a little, her shoulders sagging. She sighed. “Alright.” And then she was on her way. The room seemed to shrink without her in it. Catra didn't let herself hold onto that thought, though, and shoved it away. Rather than dwell on whatever just happened, she cleaned the blood from her face and arms, and returned to her room. Only when she was face-down on her mattress did she allow herself to cry. 

* * *

She went the next few days without talking to Scorpia. Which was fair. She hadn't exactly been nice to her. Then again, it wasn't like Catra could afford being nice right now. She needed to find a lighter, figure out who Zara was, and get on her good side. Not exactly the most cohesive activities with whatever Scorpia was planning. The only drawback was that school got a thousand times more boring. 

On the third night, Catra decided to spend her free time in her room. She couldn't play basketball, Lonnie hated her, and Scorpia wasn't talking to her. If she didn't work in the barn, where everyone was always on their periods, she’d have someone else to bother. But there was nothing she could do about that- Yet- so she returned to her room early. There, she found one of her roommates- Carol- reading on her bed.

“Oh, Catra,” She grunted, and began rummaging through her sack. “Got somethin’ for you.” 

“What is it?” Carol shrugged. 

“Dunno, man. ‘S from your girlfriend.” Catra’s ears burned, and she took a half-step away. 

“Don't got a girlfriend,” She hissed. Carol chuckled softly. 

“Whatever,” She said, “Don’ shoot the messenger, ya know?” She came out of the bag with what looked like a ball of socks, and tossed it across the room. Catra caught it with both hands. 

“You lucky, Kit Kat,” Carol muttered, and returned to her book. 

“Don't fuckin’ call me Kit Kat,” Catra growled under her breath. But now wasn't the time to pick a fight. She could hardly walk, let alone kick Carol’s ass. She climbed the ladder to her own top bunk, and made sure Carol wasn't looking before she tore into the sock ball. It was bound tight, and somewhat difficult to get the center. When she did, she was speechless. In her hands rested a small, red lighter. No fucking way. 

Catra marveled at the lighter, turning it over and running her fingers along smooth edges. It was perfect. She lunged across her bed to grab her own sack, digging through it for the cigarettes. Only when she had one in her hand did she realize how stupid it would be to smoke. Carol would notice, then ask for one, and then she’d be a fuckin’ dealer for everyone else in the house. No, thank you. And even if she did find a private place, the smell would cling to her and everyone would find out anyway. Catra slapped her forehead and groaned, clenching a fist around the lighter. Fuck, she was such an idiot. But she knew what she had to do.

Deep in the night, when everyone else was asleep, Catra crawled down from her bed and cracked open the window. It creaked, but not enough to wake anyone. With her fingernails, she pried open the screen- Just enough for her arm to fit through. Catra took a deep breath, brought the cigarette box to her lips, and tossed them away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woopdi doop introspection??? anyway that's all for now kiddos let's get out there and say FUCK THE US 
> 
> anyway, i hope you all enjoyed that installment. I wasn't super confident posting it, so i hope it's satisfactory. Feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments. To those of you who came here lookin for some ~romance~, git ready cause the next chapter's gonna have A Scene tm you may enjoy. stay tuned!
> 
> The spotify playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/56t95KQ8tVNZku3MkBm9ev  
> My tumblr: urmomsstuntdouble.tumblr.com
> 
> that's all for now! feel free to hit me up on tumblr!


	6. | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo here's more words. 6.3k words to be exact. 
> 
> I'm sorry if this chapter, or section of the story feels stagnant. We're in a lull at the moment, and the action will pick up again soon. Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: I don't think there's anything specific for this chapter. Maybe tread carefully if EDs are triggering? you should be good.

Christmas came monthly at the White Orchid Home. On the last Thursday of every month, Mara and two girls would pack her car with goods to sell at a farmers’ market held in a nearby town. Getting to go was anyone’s dream, although most had already given up on it. Catra had. It was a privilege extended to good girls only, and she wouldn't touch the label  _ good girl _ with a ten foot pole. It was too much work, anyway.

Catra only learned about it the Wednesday before Mara’s June trip. Though she announced it a week or so prior, Catra hadn't been present. Mara told the girls everything at meals, and Catra didn't go in the dining room unless she had business there. Nobody forced her to eat, so she didn't.

Normally, she wouldn't care. Sure, she’d be jealous of whoever did get to leave. They’d get a whole day in the outside world, and who didn't want that? The idea had her mind back in New York. There was an Adora for her to talk to, a Tamari for partying with, and anything she could ever want. She couldn't help but fantasize about what would've happened if she was still in New York.

Then she learned Scorpia was going. Something about that got under her skin. It wasn't that she didn't deserve it- Scorpia was among the yuppiest fucks ever to grace her presence. But that didn't mean Catra had to like it. Besides, Scorpia had already been out before, when she broke her arm. You couldn't let one person leave more than the rest- Nobody should’ve been leaving at all! The whole situation annoyed Catra enough to bring it up with Scorpia the day before.

“I don't know, Catra!” Scorpia told her. “But why question it? I mean, I get out for a whole day! That’s exciting- Right?”

“You should question things more. The government-”

“Shut up, Catra,” Lonnie called. She sat at between their tree and the next, surrounded by baskets of cherries. “You’re just jealous ‘cause Mara didn't pick you.”

“Couldn't care less,” Catra hissed.

“Right,” Lonnie said, a smirk on her lips. “That’s why you’re complaining ‘bout it.” With that, she clicked her tongue and returned to sorting cherries.

“I’m not-”

“She trusts me is all,” Scorpia interrupted. Catra smiled to herself- If she ever went, she’d steal so much shit, Mara would never be able to go back. She hoped theft was also part of Scorpia’s plan, although she doubted it.

“‘S kinda stupid to bring us along,” Lonnie mused, “Seein’ as how we’re criminals.” Scorpia hummed in agreement. She lowered herself from the tree and stretched, yawning. This was the first time Catra paid full attention to how tall she was. Her head was among the lowest branches, which was impressive. And had Catra staring. It wasn't every day that realizations like that came along. The world might’ve already ended if Catra were that tall.  _ You could’ve done your work from the ground, you asshole. _

“Uh, Catra? Did you hear what I said?” Scorpia asked, waving a hand in front of Catra’s face. She felt a sudden urge to lurch forward and bite one of Scorpia’s fingers.

“What?”

“We’re gonna be there pretty much all day, so…”

“I know,” Catra said.

“Well, uh…in case you didn't…Now you do!” Scorpia grinned, and though Catra hated it, she grinned right back. It was weird how she could just…smile. It was admirable. To put on a happy face, even when your life was sitting in a hot, musty building and taking care of plants.

“Do, uh…Do you want me to get you anything tomorrow?” Scorpia asked, one hand ruffling her hair. Well, then. That was interesting. Though her faith in the theory dwindled, Catra still wondered if Scorpia’s cheery attitude was a ruse. She couldn't shake the thought that it was fake, that Scorpia was as fucked up as the rest of them and didn't care about others’ feelings.

“Real question is what do  _ you _ want?” Catra stepped away from the tree, peering through her hair.

“What? I don't understand,” Scorpia said.

“What. Do. You. Want?” 

“To know the nutritional values of toothpaste?” What?

“‘Scuse me?” She asked, incredulous. Catra supposed she would like to know too, but what did that have to do with anything?

“Like, if it has calories?” Lonnie piped up, “Don't think there’s any. ‘Cause its not food.”

“Oh. Thank you Lonnie!” Scorpia chirped, “But wouldn't there be, like, calories from the mint?” Lonnie shrugged.

“Dunno. Probably not. ‘Cause its so processed and all.”

“That’s so cool,” Scorpia said, looking lost in thought. Catra couldn't believe she had to hear this conversation.

“This is so dumb,” She muttered, returning to her spot against the tree. “Is this what you guys do when I’m not here?”

“Yes,” Shouted another girl. She was carrying her own basket of fruit, and had an annoyed look on her face. “Nothin’ but.”

“Damn,” Catra muttered, “You guys are losers.”

“You’re the loser,” Lonnie deadpanned, and stood up with one of her cherry baskets. “Yo, Jen, you mind taking this up for me?” The girl rolled her eyes, but accepted, and took the cherry basket in her free hand.

“You owe me though,” Jen said, and was on her way.

“Thanks,” Lonnie called after her, a trace of a smile on her face.

“You know, that’s why I love the orchard,” Scorpia spoke up, “It feels like we’re a family here!”

“Right. Family,” Lonnie said, and walked over to join them. “Love it when my  _ family _ ’s always trying to steal my shit.”

“Hey, man, you got lucky,” Catra said, “The bitches in the barn are annoying as shit. They all got their periods twenty four seven.”

“Well, if you hate it so much, come work with us,” Scorpia suggested. “You get to climb in trees and steal extra food.” Wait, did that mean Scorpia thought she was skinny? She wasn't- Looking down at herself, Catra found three separate things to be disgusted by. Although…Maybe working on the orchard was the answer. She’d never steal food from the place, though.

“I’ll think about it,” She said after a pause. As an afterthought, she continued, “Don’ wanna spend all day with you losers, though.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Lonnie replied.

“Oh, come on now! Its a lot of fun, Catra, I promise!” Scorpia said, excitement in her eyes.

“Okay,” Catra said, and pressed her shoulders back further into the tree. It wasn't like she was going to completely switch over to working in the orchard right that second. “You know, Mara should be taking  _ me _ tomorrow, seeing as I'm injured and shit.”

“That would be nice…” Scorpia mused. She opened her mouth, but Catra interrupted her before she could talk.

“If you’re gonna try and get Mara to let me go, don't.” Scorpia closed her mouth, and shrugged.

“Damn, Catra. You don't gotta be snippy about it,” Lonnie muttered.

“No, its fine!” Scorpia reassured her, “I thought- ‘Cause you said-” Catra shrugged.

“Don't wanna go.”

“Okay…But I can still get you something if you want,” Scorpia added. “Oh, by the way, was the lighter good?”

“I’m sorry, you got her a lighter? What the hell for?” Lonnie asked.

“Both of you need to pipe the fuck down,” Catra hissed, “Or someone’s gonna hear. And, yeah. She did.”

“What the hell for?” Lonnie crossed her arms. Though her stance appeared angry, her eyes were wide and curious.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Catra purred. She shuffled away from the cherry tree, and grabbed Scorpia’s shoulder for support. “‘Fraid that stays between me and the big gal.”

“Or, you know, you and you. ‘Cause you never told me,” Scorpia said, “But yeah! Its between me and…and the wildcat.” Huh. That was a new one. It might’ve been cool if she hadn't already heard every cat-themed nickname in existence.

“Okay, fine. Don't tell me,” Lonnie grunted, “That’s chill. Didja at least make sure she’s not gonna burn this whole place down?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna burn it down with a lighter this big,” Catra snarked, holding up her thumb and index finger.

“That’s the sort of thing my friend would do. He’s actually here for arson-”

“He?” Lonnie asked, “You mean, at the boys’ home? How do y’all know each other?”

“There’s parties sometimes. Christmas, New Years, you know! And yeah, he’s at the boys’ home. You guys definitely need to meet him on the Fourth of July.” Lonnie nodded,

“Sure.”

Before their conversation could continue, Mara’s voice split the air, saying they were done for the day. A collective murmur of 'thank fuck' rose up in response. It must’ve been a hundred degrees in the shade, and that was before factoring in the humidity. Exhausted and sweaty girls flocked to the house, tools and produce in hand.

Rather than sit at the table, Catra leaned against the wall as if she were a guard. There were no guards here, just Mara and a couple other adults she hadn't bothered to learn the names of. Not long after the girls started eating, Catra began to wish she had sat down after all. She didn't know how long it had been since she’d seen Lonnie smile and laugh like that.  _ No, _ a darker voice interrupted,  _ You can't sit down. If you do, you’ll get fat.  _ It was the worst type of feeling, but Catra listened. She stayed rooted against the wall for the rest of dinner, unable to decide if she wanted to sit down or run away altogether.

“Catra!” Hearing her name brought her out of her head. It was Scorpia who called her, one hand up in the air. As if she was hard to spot.

“What?” Catra asked, crossing her arms and slouching.

“Lonnie and I’re gonna play cards. If you wanna join.”

“S-Sure,” She said, going against the voice in her head. If today was any indication, Scorpia wasn't out to get her. She was…trustworthy. God, it felt weird to think that. Good weird? She couldn't tell. Instead of dwelling on that, though, Catra pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to the pair.

“Do you, um. Do you need help walking?” Scorpia asked, offering her arm like she was a butler. That did sound appealing- But really? Did she need help walking into the next room over? That had to be a joke.

“I’m good,” She said, and took a swipe at Scorpia’s arm. It stayed at her side after that.

The worst thing about the night was that Catra enjoyed it. She loved everything about playing cards, from their rough edges to the smell of an old deck. Her mother had spent a lot of time hopping from job to job when she was still alive, and one had been a dealer at a casino. It was the job she held the longest- About four years- and enjoyed the most. Being a dealer required her to learn any card game you could think of and how to moderate it, which lead Catra to adopt those skills from her mother. And that lead her to kick ass at most card games.

The game of choice was Crazy Eights. It was a simple game without a restriction on the number of players, so it was optimal. Especially when everyone in the area swarmed at the sound of cards shuffling. They made it through two rounds before people started getting bored and leaving. Eventually, the group dwindled down to five- Catra, Scorpia, Lonnie, a girl who worked inside, and an adult. Catra was a bit confused as to why she was playing cards with them, but wouldn't complain. The woman was pretty good. And sort of cute, rambling about stuff like black holes and the moon landing.

It was the first time since arriving at the home that Catra let herself laugh. She didn't need to think much to win. Nobody did- It was Crazy Eights. And as it turned out, when she let herself relax, she almost managed to forget where she was.

“We should play Egyptian Ratscrew!” Someone shouted, and for some reason, everyone else agreed. Egyptian Ratscrew was a violent game that required less thought than Crazy Eights and featured more random outbursts of rage. Also Scorpia accidentally whacking hands with her cast during the first round. She switched to her other hand after scraping Lonnie's arm.

The game was cut short when Mara wandered into the room and told them it was time to go to bed. Catra groaned, annoyed. She was just starting to get into the game. But she returned to her room anyway, along with everyone else. Her blood was still racing from the adrenaline of the game when she collapsed on her bed. Again, she was alone in her room. So she smiled. It had been a good day. Something she had been missing for who knows how long.

_ I have to tell Adora about this, _ she thought, before remembering where she was. She couldn't tell Adora, because Adora was in New York and she was here. She couldn't call or write a letter, she could only think. Anyone here already knew everything she wanted to say. Not for the first time, she wondered how Adora was doing. If she was having fun, if she was safe. If she missed Catra. For some demented reason, Catra hoped that she was. It meant Adora cared about her, or that her other friends weren't as good as she thought. But...She also didn't want Adora to be miserable. With that train of thought, her good mood cracked, and she spent another night hugging her pillow.

* * *

There was extra commotion the next morning. Those who got to leave packed an old Ford with boxes and baskets of produce during breakfast. Everyone in the dining room watched by the window, gossiping in whispers. Even Catra was among them, wishing she could be getting in the car and speeding away. Life at the home wasn't bad- It was nothing. All you could do was talk. Sometimes with a basketball or a deck of cards. After a while, it was boring. The same thing happened every day. Catra had no doubt that some of the girls who had been there the longest would kill to get out.

Aside from that, the day went as usual. Catra swept the barn, shoveled manure, and sat on a hay bale. After a while, she started weaving bits of hay together. Her goal had been something like a flower chain, but what she produced was more like a jagged line of hay. But that was fine. Eavesdropping on the others in the barn was entertainment enough. Just like every other day. She went looking for the cat after getting bored, and wound up chasing him around the entire property. Lonnie stopped her with some horrible cat puns, but the day was otherwise uneventful.

In the evening, she stole a book from Carol, and read in the living room. Sometime after she started, Mara and the others returned. She saw them out the window, swarming the car. There must’ve been some good shit inside. Rather than pay attention to all that, Catra returned to her reading until an adult told her to go upstairs.

Of all the things to come back from the market, Catra would’ve expected cigarettes, drugs, magazines- But not makeup. At breakfast, she found her expectations incorrect. Bright lips, neon eyeshadow, intense eyeliner. It would never pass in jail. Makeup in there was instant coffee and ink stolen pens. How could Mara sit there and let it happen? When Catra glanced over at her, the woman was also a little heavier on the makeup than usual.

“This place is fucking weird,” She grumbled, and grabbed a glass of orange juice before going to the school. When she arrived, she was surprised to find someone sitting in her seat. Catra groaned under her breath, and made a beeline for her desk.

“You’re in my seat,” She growled, rounding on the girl. She looked both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time- A round face, big eyes. Hair streaked pink and purple, and a perfect nose.

“Oh, sorry. I thought we could sit anywhere-” The girl cut herself off when she glanced up. Her eyes went wide and she scooted back in her seat.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Catra asked, hands on her hips. “Are you deaf or something? Get out of my seat.”

“You’re, um, you’re Catra Driluth, right?” The glare melted away from Catra’s face. What? She didn't recognize this girl at all. Did she have a reputation or something? Was she ‘the girl at the juvie home?'

“Do I know you?”

“Yes? I’m Glimmer. You were friends with Adora, right? Before you got arrested? Well, she’s my best friend, and-” Catra couldn't listen to another word of that sentence.  _ She _ was Adora’s best friend, not this bitch. There was no way they had the history or chemistry. What Catra had with Adora- It was something special. You couldn't recreate that in a couple months. Catra didn't know what to be angrier about- That Glimmer thought she was Adora’s best friend, or how fast Adora moved on. Sure, they fought the last time they saw each other, but come on! They’d known each other too long not to get into arguments. And it had been a stressful situation. If she could write a letter, she could set things straight with Adora in a couple weeks, max.

“I don't give a fuck,” Catra growled, “Fuck outta my seat.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, hissing.

“Okay, okay! Seat’s yours!” Glimmer said, raised her hands, and shuffled away. On her way elsewhere, she muttered something else, but Catra couldn't make it out. Before she could go after Glimmer, though, she was interrupted.

“Good morning!” Scorpia.

“Hey- Woah,” Catra couldn't help but stare when she saw Scorpia. Her makeup was both technically good and  _ awesome _ . Dark lips, smudged black eyeliner, and wings back to her hairline. Glittery cheekbones and heavy, sharp brows, all topped off with a heart under the corner of her eye. It was a different look from what most of the girls were trying to do, but it wasn't bad.

“Oh, heh. Thank you?” Scorpia said, voice pitched up. She scratched the back of her head, and chuckled awkwardly. What place did humility have when her look was flawless?

“Yeah- Um. Good morning to you too,” Catra said, sitting down. Scorpia joined her, and leaned against the desk.

“How’re you? I meant to see you last night, but, I was busy with all-” She gestured to her face, “This stuff.”

“So it is you,” Catra mumbled, “You’re the one bringing stuff in.” Scorpia frowned, her bottom lip jutting out.

“Uh, yeah? I thought it was obvious. Didn't I say so the day you got here?”

“What?”

“Yeah, my sister, Zara? We didn't live very far from here, so she sometimes brings me stuff and leaves it in the woods. And I give it to everyone else.”

“What the actual fuck. You’re- I- What?” She paused, recalling when Darla offered her the cigarettes.  _ I got ‘em from Zara _ . “Fuck, I’m such an idiot.”

“No you’re not!” Scorpia said, “You’re super smart, and-”

“Shut up,” Catra cut her off. “It doesn't matter. You could bring in anything, and you chose makeup?” Scorpia lifted her right hand.

“And nail polish!” Her nails were black. For a moment, Catra wondered how she dressed on the outside.

“You get this once-a-month chance to smuggle shit, and you chose  _ makeup and nail polish _ ? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun. Something to do, anyway. Oh my gosh! Do you want me to do yours?! I tried to get you something, but I didn't know what you’d like, so-”

“Okay, what the fuck is that about?” Catra interrupted. Scorpia kept doing shit for her, and it was weird. It sure seemed to be genuine niceness, but what if it wasn't? There were only, like, three people in the entire world who did shit like that _ just ‘cause _ . What were the odds Catra stumbled across one of them?

“What do you mean?” Scorpia asked, frowning. This bitch-

“You keep- You keep doing shit for me! Why?”

“‘Cause we’re friends,” Scorpia said.

“We’re…friends?” Catra repeated, turning the word over in her mouth. It felt weird, wrong to apply the term to Scorpia. But also correct. Then again, Scorpia handed out her friendship like lollipops. It couldn't mean much.

“Yeah! So I got you these really cool pins from a gas station- Hang on a second,” Scorpia dug into her pockets, and came up with handfuls of junk. Catra couldn't help but cringe. She couldn't stand to have anything in her pockets. If anything ever was, she was hyper aware of how it pressed against her leg and made her sweat. Gross.

“Oh, here they are!” Scorpia said, bouncing one leg. She handed four pins to Catra, smiling in a way that seemed contradictory to her look for the day. One pin was the Rolling Stones logo on a black background. Another was the Statue of Liberty with the words  _ I <3 NYC _ below, and the third was Papa Smurf looking snooty. The last was a blue circle with the words  _ I’m Concerned _ printed in white.

“Nice,” Catra said. Though she did like the pins, and would be glad to wear them every day, she still didn't understand. What was so great about her? Sure, the pins were nice, but- Never mind. Not everything needed to be thought to death. What was so wrong about having a new friend, anyway? It wasn't like Scorpia was going to become her best friend overnight. Not like fucking Glimmer and Adora.

“So you like ‘em?”

“Y-Yeah,” Catra said, pinning the  _ I’m Concerned _ one to her shirt. “They’re great, but only together. Like, this would be a completely different thing without one of them. Wouldn't be as good.” Scorpia rested her head in her hand, smiling so wide the heart under her eye distorted.

“That’s good,” She said.

“Cool.”

“Cool.” Catra glanced down at that small heap of junk still on Scorpia’s desk. “What’s all that?”

“Oh, most of its-” Before she could finish, their teacher walked into the classroom and began the lesson. Catra managed to pay a little more attention than usual- Still not very much, though. Today’s lesson was about science. The teacher spent most of the class drawing atoms on the chalkboard. Catra couldn't follow past the first few circles he drew. If the pages weren't ripped out of her textbook it would be easier to follow, but she wasn't that lucky.

After a frustrating couple of hours, they were finally free. Catra didn't make it four steps out of the schoolhouse before Glimmer was at her side.

“Catra,” She said, voice like steel.

“Hi, Sparkles. What do you want?” Glimmer looked confused for a second before continuing.

“So, its my first day here, and-”

“No shit,” Catra mumbled under her breath. Had she even gone to jail? Doubtful, by the way she acted.

“Anyway…I don't know anyone yet, and…If you don't, like, hate me or whatever, would you mind showing me around?” Glimmer asked, forcing a smile. She looked like a third grader who broke their sibling’s toy. Actually, wait. How old was she? Adora couldn't be hanging out with little kids now, right?

“Uh, no. Find your own tour guide. This isn't a vacation,” Catra snarked, and was on her way.

“But you’re friends with Adora, right?” Catra had to close her eyes and grit her teeth before she said anything.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It should make us friends by proxy, right?”

“No!” Catra shouted, “We’re not friends! I don't even know you. And if you keep bothering me, I won't want to!” She didn't give Glimmer time to respond, and marched over to the barn as fast as she could. It had been a week or so since she hurt her ankle, and walking almost didn't hurt anymore. She cleaned the barn with expert speed, shoveling manure and sweeping the floor. By the time everyone else showed up, she was almost done.

“Fuckin’ tryhard,” Leila grumbled at her. Catra shot her a smirk and a salute, leaning against her broom. It stung, but Leila didn't need to know that. Catra was able to uphold her position until the last girl walked into the barn- Glimmer. Catra’s broom hit the floor.

“The fuck is she doing here?” Catra asked.

“Sorry!” Glimmer flinched, then straightened herself out. “I mean, sorry. I think I work here now.”

“Save it for someone who cares,” Catra grumbled, and picked up her broom. “Since its your first day, start off with something easy- Sweep the floor and shovel manure.”

“You already did that,” Leila muttered, at the same time Tammy put one hand on her hip and fixed Catra with a glare.

“And what are you gonna do all day?” Catra smirked, turning to face Tammy now.

“Oh, Tammy. I’m surprised none of you do the same.” She handed the broom to Glimmer and left the barn with a cackle. She was fucking set! All she had to do was hang out in the orchard! Lonnie would get annoyed at her, but since when was that news? Today was going to be a good day, Catra could feel it in her bones. That is, until she was interrupted.

“Catra! Wait!” Glimmer, again. She came out of the barn in an awkward-half run. It was as if she was afraid of getting in trouble for running- Maybe she had gone to jail. Catra laughed to herself at that. Poor little girl probably never got in trouble before. Rather than stop and wait for Glimmer, Catra sped up.

When she reached the trees, she glanced over her shoulder. It appeared that Glimmer followed her still. Couldn't she take a fucking hint? Catra didn't want to talk to her right now- Although she might be able to pawn her off on Lonnie. It would be pretty weird if they didn't know each other. Both good girls, both in Adora's inner circles- Yeah, they knew each other.

Catra snaked through the orchard, eyes peeled for any sign of Lonnie or Scorpia. Speaking of which, she needed to get Scorpia a present now. As payback for the pins. What would Scorpia even want? Makeup, apparently. But she already had that! A boyfriend? For some reason, that didn't sit right with her. It…It wouldn't be right to pimp her out like that. Plus, if Scorpia didn't approve of said pimpery, she might not want to be friends anymore. And she was definitely a friend worth having.

Catra found them without much trouble. They stood under a peach tree, at the end of the orchard closest to the lake. They had yet to start their jobs for the day, and were talking about some type of strategy when Catra arrived.

“You’re early today,” Lonnie said, “Didja get someone else to do  _ your _ job?”

“Did it during lunch,” Catra replied. “Did you know this little purple-haired girl named Glimmer on the outside?” Lonnie raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, sort of? Why?”

“She’s following me,” Catra groaned, and glanced over her shoulder, “And I don't want to talk to her.”

“Why not?” Lonnie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I-” Catra bit her lip. Because Glimmer was annoying. She thought she was Adora’s best friend, and entitled her to a friendship with Catra. It was too petty to say out loud, so she didn't. “She’s obnoxious.”

“Like you’re not,” Lonnie jabbed, “What do you want?”

“You’re, like, polite and shit, so you talk to her instead.”

“She’s not a dog, you know,” Scorpia chimed in, “She’s excited to see you! You know, its super lucky that you guys came here together, let alone this!”

“Yeah, but I don't know her!” Catra hissed, “What would you do if some bitch from your English class showed up here wanting to be besties?!” Catra didn't pay attention long enough to hear the answer. Lonnie elbowed her in the side, and when Catra spun around to say something along the lines of  _ what the fuck, dude, _ she noticed. Glimmer had arrived at their row of the orchard, eyes narrow and mouth open. You could pinpoint the exact second she spotted them. Her eyes exploded and her mouth straightened into a smile. She looked like she was on the verge of breaking out into a celebratory dance.

“Catra! Lonnie! Hi!”

“Hey, Glimmer. What’s up?” Lonnie said, offering a fist bump.

“Lonnie! Its so good to see you!” Rather than the fist bump, Glimmer opted for a hug. Lonnie’s eyes went wide, and it took her a few seconds to return the hug.

“Oh, uh…you too?”

“Ugh, sorry,” Glimmer muttered, stepping back, “It’s been so long since anyone heard from you. We, uh…We miss you guys.”  _ As if, _ Catra thought,  _ I met you TODAY. _

“No outside contact allowed, buck-o,” Catra said, “Although I’m sure Lonnie would love to catch up with you.” It was killing two annoying birds with one stone. Although that was a temporary fix. Maybe they’d cancel each other out in the future, like a double negative.

“Sure,” Lonnie said, “You wanna go on a tour?” Catra couldn't help but roll her eyes. How could one person be so lame?

“Oh my God, yes. You have no idea how stressful jail was,” Glimmer rushed out, “Thank you so much, Lonnie.” Away they went, Glimmer talking Lonnie’s ear off. Catra couldn't help but grin, satisfied with her work.

“Um…what was that?” Scorpia asked, and put a hand on Catra’s shoulder. Her hands were big. And warm. That was pretty cool. Good for stealing stuff- Probably how the pins wound up in her pockets, now that Catra thought about it. She would allow it to remain on her shoulder. For now.

“It’s fine,” She said, forcing her eyes back to Scorpia’s face. “She’ll tire her out in a few hours, and it’ll all be good.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if I were Lonnie, I’d want to stay here.”

“Dude, chill. Its fine. She’s a pushover anyway,” Catra said, “Besides, now she’s not here to be annoying.

“You know what?” Scorpia said, “I actually like Lonnie. She’s cool.”

“Okay,” Catra snorted.

“No, I’m serious! And I don't get why you’re so mean to her!”

“You don't get it,” Catra said, shrugging the hand off her shoulder. “There’s history and stuff. We were never meant to be friends.” Scorpia snorted, and leaned back against the tree.

“Friendship will surprise you like that,” She said, a soft smile on her face. “Like, we were never supposed to meet either, but-”

“Ugh, shut up about friendship! I don't need another one of you bothering me,” Catra growled, putting her hands up to her temples. It was starting to get on her nerves. Couldn't they talk about cool stuff, like…Like the Fourth of July? And the party? Parties were cool.

“Okay.” Silence. “Uh, if you’re gonna stay here, do you mind doing the ground duty? It’s super easy! All you have to do is sort through the peaches- Which ones are good, which ones are bad, and then take inventory. It’s supposed to be Lonnie’s job, but well…”

“Sure,” Catra said. She picked up an empty basket from the ground and handed it to Scorpia, then plopped back down. It was mindless work, but the ground was a much nicer place to sit than a hay bale. Especially when one was used to hay bales. And…Scorpia wasn't bad company. She talked a lot, so Catra didn't have to, and about enough things to remain interesting. Catra didn't pay attention to everything she said, though- It was like having a talk show on in the other room. The only drawback was the humidity.

The day was over fast. Catra hardly noticed until Scorpia jumped down from the tree and laid down on the ground.

“It’s not a bad job, but man, do I hate climbing trees,” She panted.

“Yeah,” Catra mumbled. She had only climbed a tree once before, but it was a great deal of fun. She loved climbing as a child. Getting to climb on a fire escape for the first time was better than a Christmas present could ever be.

“Oh, Catra,” She said, rolling onto her stomach, “What do you think about working out here? Like, instead of the barn.”

“Dunno,” Catra said, “‘S okay, I guess. Why?”

“Well, you’re always here. And you hate everyone in the barn. Which doesn't make sense to me, because when you get Tammy in a good mood, she can be super nice. And Leila was so sweet when she first got here- I actually haven’t talked to her in awhile. I should do that…”

“How long  _ have _ you been here?” Catra asked. Scorpia’s mouth scrunched up, and she glanced off to the side. Catra’s breath caught in her throat at the sight. Maybe it was the way the light hit her hair, or how her makeup smudged with sweat and time, but Scorpia was fucking-

“A year and a half. That’s how December works, right? Six months from December is June, and six from January is July?” Dumb. She was fucking dumb.

“One plus six is seven, zero plus six is six,” Catra said. “How much time do you have left?”

“A year and a half.”

“Shit, girl, that must’ve been a good burglary.”

“No. I got caught, remember?” Catra had to close her eyes and count to five.

“Whatever. And sure. I'll give my job to Glimmer”

“Catra! You can't switch jobs over that!” Catra smirked.

“Watch me, bitch.”

“If-”

They were cut off by the call for dinner. For the first time in a long time, Catra sat down to eat. The food on the table was salad and bread, along with some weird soup-esq thing made of beets and corn. Only when Lonnie slammed her body into the chair next to Catra did she begin to feel at ease.

“Did you know this is the first time Glimmer’s been in trouble? Like, ever? Girl’s terrified,” She said, no greeting attached.

“What’s she here for?” Scorpia asked, ripping apart a slice of bread.

“Fuckin’ selling weed.

“Don’ understand why that’s illegal,” Catra said, “Bet even Nixon smoked weed.”

“I know. And she didn't think she was gonna get in trouble, cause her mom? Same lady who got us out of prison. Glimmer’s fuckin’ pissed, man. And you wanna know what else? She’s only got fifteen months.”

“Fuckin’ bullshit,” Catra muttered, crossing her arms. She glanced over at Scorpia. “Can you believe this shit?”

“Um…No, I cannot.”

“Yeah,” Lonnie said. “And now she thinks we’re best friends, too.” That was something of a relief. If it took a couple hours for Glimmer to become best friends with someone, she couldn't be Adora’s best friend. They were probably just acquaintances. Yeah.  _ Sorry, Princess, but  _ I’m _ still Adora’s best friend. _

“What’s so bad about being friends with her?” Scorpia asked, “Far as I know, she’s a nice girl in a rough spot.”

“She is nice,” Lonnie said, “But she ain’t part of my life here.”

“I met her  _ today _ and she fuckin-” Catra scoffed. “She’s not part of my life here either.”

“Why not?” Scorpia asked, talking with her hands. “What if she’s what you need to become a better person? You know, the whole reason we’re here?” Lonnie sighed, and looked out the window.

“I don't  _ want _ her to be part of my life. ‘Cause she didn't do anything wrong, but I did. And I don't want to be remembered for it.”

“Oh. Y-Yeah, that works too,” Scorpia offered, “Sorry. I guess friendship is really important to me…” She trailed off, staring down at her still empty plate.

“Nah, you good,” Lonnie said, and reached over Catra’s head to put a hand on Scorpia’s shoulder. “What’s up with you? Thinkin’ about eating your toothpaste?”

“No,” Scorpia chuckled, “That would be awful.”

“Then why ask how many calories it has?”

The rest of dinner was fine. Catra managed to eat some salad and survive a twenty minute conversation a la ‘Does toothpaste have calories?' When dinner ended, Lonnie suggested they go up to Scorpia’s room instead of hanging around the living room.

“Are you saying what I think you are?” Catra purred, raising an eyebrow. She was met with a glare and a smack on the shoulder.

“No, fuckhead,” Lonnie grumbled, “She swiped somethin’ special for her roommate.” Catra frowned. She thought her pins were something special, but maybe not.

“And what does that have to do with us?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“Lonnie! Don't- You can't tell anyone else, okay?” Scorpia said, “That was really- You know!” Lonnie rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Can we go?” Catra spent every second of the walk asking what it was. Scorpia’s room was on the third floor, and a lot nicer than Catra’s. At least, it seemed that way. There were only two bunk beds, and the table was smaller. There was actually an open space on the floor, and the window wasn't stuck. Best of all, there was a small portable radio sitting on the table.

“No fuckin’ way,” Catra gasped, “Is that it?” Scorpia nodded, a faint blush shining through the glitter.

“Yeah.”

“I wish we were roommates,” Catra said.

“I’m glad we’re not,” Lonnie muttered.

“Fuck off,” Catra said, “I’m protecting this with my life, Scorpia.”

“Heh, thanks.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But you  _ cannot _ tell anyone else, okay? Mara usually lets small stuff slide, but this- This is pretty big.

“Promise,” Catra said, and crossed herself for good measure. Lonnie rolled her eyes but followed suit. And over the next two hours, they found every station they could. They got three, and only one played music. It was unintelligible crap from the 40s and 50s, but Catra didn't care. She could’ve cried from joy at the sound of an actual melody. Nobody knew a word coming from the speaker. They danced like the world was ending anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there ya go! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. It was fun to write! If you liked it, please leave a comment telling me what you thought. And if you didn't, feel free to leave a critique! Constructive criticism is always welcome! 
> 
> Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/56t95KQ8tVNZku3MkBm9ev
> 
> My Tumblr: urmomsstuntdouble.tumblr.com (there's gonna be some pictures of scorpia's makeup so swing on by mayhaps?)
> 
> Next Chapter: Catra finally smokes something, existentialism strikes again, and Scorpia can drive.


	7. | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back from the impromptu hiatus! Sorry about the long wait for this one. It's been mostly finished for a while, but I've been travelling a lot lately and have had -0 time to write. And usually -0 internet access. Fair warning, though, the breaks between chapters are going to get longer, as I go back to school next week. Thanks for your patience! 
> 
> Out of context summary: Catra gets drunk, Scorpia totally didn't kill someone, and girls are really pretty sometimes. 
> 
> Warnings: Underage drinking, intense self hatred, underage pregnancies

**1988**

* * *

 

On the Fourth of July, Catra didn't wake up until well past eleven. Not an unusual occurrence for a Saturday on the outside, but this was a Monday at a juvie home. Trouble would be afoot any other day. But today was a holiday, which meant no work or school. Boredom filled the empty hours. Girls snorted crushed coffee beans, made out, and crowded the basketball court. All killing time until the party began. 

From what Scorpia told her, parties up here were the best you could attend. Alcohol made its way in, and the boys and girls were free to roam wherever they pleased. For some, it meant sex. Others reunited friends they hadn't seen in a while. At ten, there would be a firework show over the lake. Catra hated how Scorpia used the word ‘show.’ It wasn't a damn show; a show was a performance. This was illegal explosions from the convenience store.

She was still excited anyway. A whole day of  _ whatever _ she wanted- 

“Yo! Pussy cat!” Catra was alone, but ignored the voice despite recognizing it. She was busy waiting for Scorpia to come back with her friend from the boys’ home. And enjoying the calm warmth of the sun dappled ground in the orchard. 

“’M talkin’ to you!” She rolled her eyes. If Darla thought she was getting up, she was bonkers. Catra had achieved the perfect resting position, and had no intention of leaving it. 

“Shuddup,” She mumbled, blinking her eyes open. This was not good weather for being awake, and Catra was always happy to nap in the sun. 

“You shuddup!” Darla snarled. She walked around Catra, removing the option of ignoring her. 

“Th’ fuck d’you want?” Catra groaned. She squinted past Darla, looking for a glint of bleach blond hair in the distance. 

“You fuckin’ got me pregnant!” Darla hissed, and pointed at her stomach. Catra couldn't help but smirk. 

“Aww, babe,” She yawned, “I’m gonna be a daddy.” If Darla were a cartoon, smoke would billow from her ears. 

“You ain’t the daddy!” Darla growled, cheeks bright, “’N you fuckin- Its all your fault!” 

“My fault?” Catra grumbled, drunk on relaxation, “’S your vagina. How’d you even know you’re pregnant?”

“I, uh…I haven’t got my period since May.” She bit her lip and glanced around, clasping her own hands. Overall, she took on a puppy-ish appearance. It might’ve been cute if she weren't so annoying. 

“So whadda ya want?” Catra groaned, “I’m waiting for someone, ‘n-”

“I want you to fix it!” Catra scoffed, and rolled her eyes. She shoved herself up, too far from the nearest tree to lean against it. A travesty. 

“Shame, ‘cause I don't want to fix it,” She said, and rose to her feet. “A-And what would I even do, anyway? Hit you until you miscarry?” Darla gasped, and held a hand to her chest. 

“No! I don't know. Anything! Please?” 

“You didn't have to do it. But’cha did. And it ain’t my fault, or my problem. I didn't sign up for this shit,” Catra said, speaking with her hands. “Find someone who cares, ‘cause I sure as shit don't.” 

“You can't do that!” Darla whined, “You ain’t allowed to- to!” 

“I’m not allowed to what?” Catra asked, stepping closer. It pained her to stand so close to another person, but Darla’s discomfort was worth her own. “You know, I think-” And there she was! A white tuft of hair in the distance, otherwise known as Scorpia. Catra shoved past Darla, leaving her to shout vague threats, and sped through the orchard.

“Fuck, Scorpia, what took you so long?” Catra asked, running a hand through her hair. A tall boy stood next to Scorpia.  _ This _ was her friend? His hair was dark brown, bleached at the tips of his bangs. A moldy shoelace of a mustache graced his upper lip, and a couple hairs dotted his jawline. From the looks of him, he called it a beard. 

“I-”

“Hello!” He extended one hand. “I am the famed Sea Hawk! I hope my reputation precedes me!” Rather than let her introduce herself, Sea Hawk grabbed her hand and shook it. His grip was too tight, and he didn't let go until Catra hissed at him. 

“Are you the arsonist?” Catra crossed her arms. The boy shrugged, and scrunched his face. 

“Eh…I like to think of myself more as a singer. I do love fire, though. My band, actually, was called Pyrocycle- Like a bicycle, but on fire.” 

“Okay,” Catra said. It was all she could say. “Bring anything else?” 

“Um, nope! J-Just him,” She said, a small grin on her face as usual. “Attracts too much attention, you know? And I don't like drinking-”

“Whatever,” Catra said. “From what I hear, someone else already did.” And they were on their way. They returned to the house, where Lonnie waited on the porch, playing blackjack. The girls gambled for small treats- Makeup, Hostess snacks, cigarettes. Lonnie didn't win much, but she did wind up with an old fashioned fountain pen and hold onto it for dear life. Either something non-pen related was afoot, or Lonnie was a weirdo. 

After the brief pause on the porch, they continued inside to Scorpia’s room. 

“Ooh!” Sea Hawk shouted, as he took note of the radio. “A radio! You’ve outdone yourself this time, Scorpia.” He fiddled with the antenna, searching for a working station. 

“Heh, thanks,” Scorpia said, and brushed a clump of hair away from her face. “Oh! The station that plays music is actually here.” She knelt down to fix the antenna, and had music playing in seconds. As always, a smile was on her face. This particular smile was odd, and should've been out of place, but it wasn't. No face was better suited to a perpetual grin. 

“Wonderful! Let the adventure commence!” 

“I’d say the  _ advent-shuh _ started when you sneaked in,” Catra grumbled, crossing her arms. She leaned against a bunk bed, and crossed her legs for good measure. Sea Hawk was like another Scorpia- Loud, bubbly, and a total weirdo- but with a different style. If she was The Rolling Stones, he was the Beatles. Catra didn't particularly like either band. Adora did, however, which meant Catra knew the Stones were cooler. 

“You could look at it that way,” Sea Hawk muttered, “Or! You could see what lies ahead as the adventure!” 

“Right,” Catra snorted, “Two and a half years in here, and I get to die on the street- And the same goes for you.”

“Catra!” Scorpia exclaimed, scandalized look on her face. She spoke no more, but bit her lip like she wanted to, like she struggled to hold herself back. 

“Scorpia,” Catra mocked, voice low. “‘S happ’nin to most of us. Your sister brings you treats, but most of us ain’t lucky.” The room went silent, save for the staticky music coming from the radio. Scorpia’s eyes locked on her own. A strange glimmer lurked below the surface, but Catra couldn't describe it. She peered closer, deeper into those black eyes for more. In the end, they were nothing more than eyes. 

“Well,” Sea Hawk said, “When shall the party begin?” 

“Uh, after dinner. You knew that,” Scorpia said, “Although I hear Renee makes good booze, if you wanna start drinking now.”

“Ah, but what good is the adventure if one is too intoxicated to remember?” Sea Hawk screeched, one foot already up on the table. 

“Wish I was intoxicated,” Catra mumbled. Thankfully, neither Scorpia nor Sea Hawk heard. She was in for a long Fourth of July. 

* * *

The actual Fourth of July party was pretty subpar, as Fourth of July parties went. Copious amounts of alcohol weren't copious at all, and most people never crossed the line of drunkenness. It left Catra unsatisfied, chasing a high she could’ve had any day of the week on the outside. 

After their usual free time, all the kids gathered near the lake to watch a pitiful fireworks display. Each time, Mara slunk in with a lighter and then ran off on her tiptoes, like she was an old cartoon. Catra didn't stick around to see the end. Rather, she left with everyone else to drink at the edge of woods. Drinking was a nice word for what they did. A couple girls had plastic bags full of fermented fruit, and a boy who was the dictionary definition of a twink had two cans of Miller Lite. The fruit bags tasted like death, but that didn't stop Catra from hoarding a bag of peach. 

For a while, Catra managed to forget about where she was. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the people. Didn't matter. What mattered was the few hours she felt something like joy. Everyone wore the same shirt and pants, but other than that, Catra could believe she was on the outside. 

“Catra,” Lonnie mumbled at one point, “Vampires prolly invented knock knock jokes.” 

“Why?”

“‘Cause they ain’t allowed in your house ‘less you let ‘em.” On Catra’s other side, Scorpia chatted away with Sea Hawk. His name couldn't actually be Sea Hawk. There were parents cruel enough to name their children  _ Scorpia _ and  _ Catra _ , but  _ Sea Hawk _ ? Nobody was that shitty. Right? 

And what were they even talking about, anyway? Catra tried to pay attention, but then she focussing was a distraction, then someone else said something interesting, and it was back to the start. Not much time passed before she tuned them out altogether and wandered into open grass. 

For the first time, she saw the stars with clarity. And Jupiter- Or rather, she thought it looked like Jupiter. Catra once lived with a woman obsessed with astrology, and liked to think it made her the expert on the subject. It didn't. Jupiter was visible at the time, but not from upstate New York. Catra was actually looking at an orange star. But she liked the idea of looking at another planet, so it never crossed her mind she could be wrong. 

After she grew bored watching the sky, Catra turned to look for Scorpia. She needed to know about how pretty the stars were! Wait. Did Scorpia’s parents love astrology? Was that why her name was Scorpia? Catra needed information immediately. She shot to her feet, and found the girl in question right away. Talking and laughing with Sea Hawk and Lonnie. They passed around one of the beer cans, although Lonnie was the only one actually drinking. 

His hand rested on her shoulder. 

There wasn't a logical reason to get upset over it. Hands on shoulders happened all the time. But logic had nothing on the heavy lump forming in Catra’s stomach. She blinked, turned around, and lifted her plastic bag to her lips. 

“Oh! Catra! Hey, Catra!” She kept drinking. 

“Ugh. Fuckin’ dick.”  _ Right back at you, Lonnie _ . After emptying the bag into her throat, Catra crumpled it up, tossed it on the ground, and turned back around. 

“H-Hey,” She slurred, “Fuck’s up with you losers?” 

“We were talking about how crazy fast music goes,” Scorpia said, “Who’s your favorite singer?” Catra couldn't think of a single singer. Shit. It wasn't like she didn't listen to music- She listened to too much music. What was not listening to music? Catra didn't know, ‘cause she loved music. Fuck! 

“Fuckin…” Her mind remained blank. “Kiss.” False.

“Ew,” Lonnie muttered. Catra agreed. 

“Think about all the new songs they’re writing,” Sea Hawk mused, “Every day here is like months out there.” 

“I’m gonna have so much Michael Jackson to listen to when I get out. Ooh, and David Bowie!” Scorpia chirped, “It’s so exciting!” 

“If I was Michael Jackson, he’d be no one’s favorite,” Catra muttered. The statement earned her a punch from Lonnie. “What the fuck, dude?” She groaned, leaning on her left leg. Whatever Lonnie had to say, she hoped it was quick. Scorpia and Sea Hawk were already talking again. 

“You always do shit like that, and it ain’t cute,” Lonnie grumbled, “None of us like ourselves, get over it.” 

“But...none of us includes you.” Catra adjusted herself, facing Lonnie. She looked different in this light. The silver from the moon and stars gave her skin a metallic look and turned her eyes to nebulas. Lonnie was always a thoughtful person. Finally, she looked it. 

“Yup."

"Wow." 

"But I figure it's 'cause everyone knows the worst shit 'bout themself, yanno?" A pause. "Secret, though. No one cares." Easy for her to say. Lonnie saw the worst of her- Or at least, something abysmal- in March. It was obvious, to Catra anyway, that she was a terrible person. She was long since corrupted by pride, wrath, envy, and every other cardinal sin. 

"Damn," Catra said, "Must be nice livin' like that." Lonnie shrugged. 

“Don't think there is a nice way to live." 

"That's deep," Catra said, "Not stupid, though."

“Thanks? If it was a compliment.” 

“You’re drunk,” Catra told her, without a hint of malice in her voice. 

“I know,” Lonnie said. 

“Shut up.” 

At the time, Lonnie had a beer can. She held it out to Catra, who stared as if she was new to having eyes before she grabbed it and took a hearty swig. 

“You’re hogging it!” Lonnie whined, and lunged forward. 

“Am not!” Catra swung the can away, stepping out of the way and into Scorpia. “Quick, hold it so she can't reach it!” Scorpia made it less than a second before she broke down laughing. Sea Hawk made it five seconds; Lonnie ten, and Catra almost a minute before her cheeks ached from smiling. 

“That’s adorable!” Scorpia managed between giggles. Catra wasn't quite sure why she was laughing, but she couldn't complain. She wasn't in the mood to argue, even if the word  _ adorable _ made her cringe. She hadn't laughed like this for quite a while. It was nice. Like sitting down for the first time in hours, or drinking cold water on a hundred degree day. 

If someone told her where she’d be a year ago, she would’ve laughed in their face. A year ago, convinced Adora to smoke for the first time. They spent the night on the roof of Adora’s building, laughing at things one had to be young or stoned to understand. They hadn't been alone, but Catra couldn't name anyone else if you paid her a million dollars. When she was with Adora, all other faces and names faded into the background. 

At some point, Catra might’ve called Adora her soulmate. Not that she believed in that sort of thing. But it went miles deeper than ‘best friends,’ which was good enough for her. It was a profound love, at least on her end. If she could trust Glimmer in any capacity, the same didn't go for Adora. Either Catra’s love meant nothing, or Adora never cared for their friendship in the first place. 

The idea crashed around her ears, like riding a convertible on the highway. It drowned out Scorpia’s laughter and her attempts at talking through it. She heard her blood pumping, her heart beating with the screams of a drowning man. She pressed her fingers to her temple, a whine wrestling with her throat. And fuck, did whining disgust her. 

“Catra?” Soft voice, but rough around the edges. Scorpia. “Are you okay? You, um, you started shaking, and-” Ew. Why did Scorpia even want to be friends with her? 

“I’m good,” She breathed. Her lungs quivered and her eyes burned like they’d taken a fistful of salt, but she was okay.  _ Adora doesn't care about me. _ “I’m good.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause if you wanna talk about it, or-” 

“Its dumb to say you don't mean,” Catra hissed. Nobody cared about her revelations. Even Adora would laugh in her face, let her know how stupid she was. That was how their relationship worked. Catra failed, Adora succeeded.

“Um? I did mean it…” Scorpia said, wringing her hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Peachy.” 

“It’s okay, Scorpia,” Lonnie shouted, “Catra’s a meanie.” Scorpia raised one eyebrow, playful. 

“Really?”

“I’m a meanie,” Catra mumbled. She crossed her arms, “I’m mean.” 

“But you’re not, though! Like, Sea Hawk, you think she’s nice, right?” He did, and said so. 

“Well, you’re fuckin’ wrong,” Catra said. She was bitchy, dumb, rude, a manipulative psycho. Not nice. “I’m a bad person.

“When you feel like it,” Lonnie grunted, “Hand me the goddamn beer.” Catra almost did. Instead, she held the beer in front of Lonnie and then snatched it away to chug. 

“Hey!” Lonnie shouted, and lunged forward again. 

“I’ll fight you again,” Catra snarled, “And I’ll fuckin’ win.” 

“Okay,” Scorpia murmured, “That’s enough drinking for you.” She grabbed Catra’s arm with one hand, and pried the beer can free with the other. What was happening? Scorpia’s hands were warm, and she liked warm things. But she wasn't supposed to like this. Ugh. The rules loved needless complications. It was her fault for writing them like that, but still. Rude. 

“Un-fucking-believable,” Lonnie scoffed, but Catra didn't hear. The rules said she had to fight Scorpia, but she didn't want to. She’d lose anyway. 

“Whatever,” Catra grunted, “Didn't want it anyway.” She wandered away, ignored the others’ protests. She didn't belong with them. Everyone else was too good for her. What was the point of bringing her here? She deserved to be in an adult prison. Fighting, drinking, stabbing Lonnie. What was the point? It wasn't the first time someone talked shit about her, nor the worst. Was it even shit talking? Catra sniffled, leaning against a tree. When did everything go wrong? 

When did her throat close up, eyes burn and cheeks ache? She refused to cry, but tears came anyway. Disgusting, silent tears  with none but God as their witness. Her throat tightened around nothing, choking itself. A knife stuck in her chest, poked out her back, and she was used to it.  _ Please, _ she thought, praying for the first time in years.  _ Please let me feel anything else. _

Her tears dried and melted into her cheeks by the time a small horde of boys came running down to the lake. Some waded in, others stood at the shore and made noise. They had the appearance of youth and innocence, splashing around and shrieking when they got wet. Catra couldn't help but ponder their crimes. Aggravated assault. Burglary. Possession with intent to sell. Arson. Bad luck. 

“Hey, you good over here?” Catra glanced up. Scorpia. She cared too much for her own good. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Um, that doesn't seem super good right now,” Scorpia said, “No offense, but you look like shit.” Catra rolled her eyes. She didn't know Scorpia was capable of cursing. 

“What do you want?” Scorpia didn't speak. Her presence was unnerving. For a moment, Catra wondered what would happen if they fought. She'd walk away with a broken nose, and Scorpia with more time. Keeping her hands to herself was the better option.  

“I want you to be happy.” That was new. Catra took a step back, so she didn't have to crane her neck to make eye contact. In the sun, Scorpia’s eyes weren't impressive- Regular old brown-ish black. You could throw out a jewel tone if you were in the mood to stretch facts. The moon turned them into inkpots- A demon's eyes. 

“Why?”

“You deserve it.” 

“No.” 

“Yes!” Scorpia shouted. She put one hand on Catra’s shoulder, and tugged her close. “Because you're alive, and everyone deserves to be happy.” It was an awkward hug, if you could call it that. Catra stood still, her insides writhing.  _ This is wrong _ . She couldn't- No hugs, please and thank you. Too much. Warmth flooded her chest. It was all so foregin. Maybe it wasn't all bad? 

“Stop,” She growled, “Please stop.” Scorpia took a step back,  _ thank the fucking Lord. _ She stared down with the worst look in her eyes. They could’ve made veterans cry. Catra’s own eyes stung, and she had to say something, but nothing was good enough.

“Sea Hawk! Get your ass down here!” Neither girl heard the call. 

Sea Hawk appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, at Scorpia’s side. 

“I must depart,” He said, and threw open his arms. She gave him a tight hug, even lifted him off the ground. 

“See you in November,” She mumbled. Catra shoved fists into her pockets, wishing she could handle a hug. Which, wait a second. Oh, she was such a moron. You didn't ‘have a friend at the boys’ home,’ you had a boyfriend. Or at least, a fuck buddy. And if she was right, which she was, that’s where Scorpia had been all day. 

Images of the pair kissing, making out, undressing permeated Catra’s mind. The idea had her shuddering, and the silence served to make it worse.

“And I bid thee farewell!” Sea Hawk shouted, gave a two fingered salute, and was off with the rest of the boys. Scorpia gave a small wave back, a soft grin playing with her cheeks. Discomfort. 

After a couple moments of waiting, quiet ringing in her ears, Catra spoke, the words heavy on her tongue. 

“So he’s your boyfriend, then?” 

“What?” Scorpia asked, raising an eyebrow. Her face contorted into a strange expression, eyes wide and scrunched at the same time. Disgust? “ _ No. _ Where- Did someone tell you that?” Catra shook her head. 

“Figured it out. Its fine, I won't tell.” 

“Well, thanks. But, um…Sea Hawk’s not my boyfriend, Catra. I don't have- don't want a boyfriend.” Interesting. Catra swivelled her head around to look at Scorpia. Wide eyes, cheeks red, lips drawn tight. A wave of relief washed over Catra, though she didn't know why. 

“Oh?” 

“Mm-hmm!” She swallowed, nodding. “No- No boyfriends here. Nope, not me!” Catra snorted, looked at the lake. Such vehement denial of a boyfriend was the fastest way to make it sound like she’d killed one. 

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds suspicious,” Catra joked. Scorpia shook her head. 

“Nope. Nothing to be suspicious about.” A pause. “If we’re being honest, I’ve, um. I’ve never had a boyfriend.” 

“Cool,” Catra muttered. “Me neither.” If  _ she _ was being honest, she needed to go to sleep or drink another bag of fermented fruit. And they were fresh out of fruit bags. 

“Oh, wow. Would’ve thought someone like you-”

“Relationships are stupid,” Catra said, “Just someone else to disappoint, but this time its worse ‘cause you think you’re in love. Truth is, no one gives out love that easy.” 

“Wow. That’s sad. That you think that, I mean,” Scorpia said, “Are you okay?” Catra shrugged.

“Dunno. Pro'lly.” 

“You don't seem okay.”

“All is well in Catra-ville,” She snorted. She wondered if there were any drugs laying around the house. Sobriety was no longer an option. 

“Well…You can talk to me, you know,” Scorpia ventured, “If you want, I can talk back.” Catra snorted again. 

“Fuckin’ fantastic.”

“I’m serious, Catra. If you, like, need to talk about anything, or- ‘Cause, you know, stuff is still bad on the outside. You know, my dad-”

“I got someone pregnant,” Catra blurted. Huh. She hadn't planned on saying that. Wasn't even true. 

“But you’re a girl? Oh, wait, are you pregnant? Not that that’s better, but-”

“No one's pregnant,” Catra chuckled. “It’s all good. Talk to you in the morning, ‘kay?” 

* * *

The peculiar air of the holiday hung around in the morning. Catra found it annoying, but she hadn’t the ability to change people’s feelings. She first noticed the subtle buzz at breakfast, when she slammed her forehead into Scorpia’s shoulder with intent to concuss. 

“It’s too early to be alive,” She complained. She searched for a bone to whack her head on, and grew more annoyed when she found none. “Your shoulders’re too fuckin’ muscley,” She whined. 

“Oh, sorry,” Scorpia murmured, and brought one hand up to her shoulder. 

“Girl, your shoulders are fuckin’ dope,” Someone said in passing. Scorpia perked up, and shot them a smile. Not long after, another girl dropped a wadded up napkin on Scorpia’s plate. 

“Thank you,” She nodded, biting a black lip. The other girl didn't say anything. This continued all day, even during school. An assortment of girls approached Scorpia throughout the day to compliment her eyes or hand over socks and napkins. Each one looked a tad awkward about it. One did a half-courtesy. Even Darla came up.  

“Hey,” She said, nonchalant. Catra sneered at the sight of her. Who did she think she was, with her hair all rumpled and eyes smudged in black? Who was she trying to impress?

“Hi,” Scorpia said, a tad breathless from tree-tending. “What’s up?” 

“I got somethin’ you might like, seein’ as its your birthday and all.” Oh, that would explain it. Why hadn't she told Catra? She might’ve done something special…

“If it isn't my sugar baby,” Catra purred, glancing around Scorpia’s shoulder. “‘Sup, bitch?” 

“She ain’t allowed to come,” Darla said. 

“Um…Okay? Am I missing something here…?” 

“Ugh. She’s the pregnant one.”

“Oh, is that what you were talking about? Oh, cool. Well, not cool cool. Care to elaborate?” Catra rolled her eyes, and put one hand on her hip.

“Said she’d gimme cigarettes if I got her ‘n her boyfriend a safe space to fuck, but the idiot didn't use a fuckin’ condom.” Dramatic pause. “And now its my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Darla hissed. 

“A’ight, sweetie,” She snarked. 

“Um. I have questions,” Scorpia said timidly, “But, um, I guess I’ll ask later. What were you gonna show me, Darla?” 

“Somethin’ special,” Darla said, shifting from foot to foot. “But you gotta come with me to get it.” Catra didn't trust her one bit, especially not after the bullshit with the lighter. 

“Okay,” Scorpia said, “Catra, do you mind if I-” Catra waved one hand. 

“Do what you want,” She grunted, “I-It’s your birthday.” Scorpia sent her the purest, sweetest smile possible. She enveloped one Catra’s hands with her own, squeezed, and mouthed  _ Thanks _ before walking away with Darla. 

A piece of Catra’s soul chipped away. 

What the fuck? Scorpia could’ve dumped a bucket of boiling honey over her head and it would be better than this. Her stomach jumped, her heart shook, and her cheeks felt hot. Hot enough for her foster parents to let her stay home from school. But it was probably the hangover. She was never drinking again! At least, not until the next time. 

“Uh, Catra?” Lonnie called, “You gonna get back to work?” Catra shook herself, cheeks and neck growing warmer. 

“What?” She asked, and faced Lonnie. 

“You gonna get back to work or are you too busy staring at…” Her eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow. “Scorpia? Really?” 

“What do you mean ‘Scorpia, really?’” Catra asked, defensive, in a poor mockery of Lonnie’s voice. They were always together anyway, why was it so strange for Catra to watch her walk off? She didn't give a two-penny fuck about Darla’s intentions; she didn't trust her. And, yeah, Scorpia could handle herself, but she was also a dumbass.

“Come on, man. You’re starin’ at her like…like how you used to stare at Adora.” 

“That’s so gross, oh my God. Don't be gross, Lonnie,” Catra struggled to say. Not a day passed that she didn't think of Adora. She thought a lot of things, although she was currently between  _ Why care about Adora if she doesn't care about me? _ and  _ I don't know how much longer I can go without seeing her, I miss her so goddamn much. _ She didn't know where she was right now. Would she take back what she said the last time they saw each other? Of course not. If she got a second chance, it would be different. 

Fuck, she missed Adora. 

There was no way she looked at Scorpia like that. They didn't know each other well enough.

“If you say so,” Lonnie muttered, “C’mon. We ain’t got time to stand around here doing jack. Get up the tree.” Catra did without complaint. 

"By the way," Catra said, "She's single." 

"Okay," Lonnie said while handing her a basket. 

"Don't think she's ever had a boyfriend."

“What am I s'posed to do with this information? She lookin’ for you too hook her up with someone?” Catra shrugged. 

“If you want.” She rose slowly, clinging to the tree branches to keep herself upright. God, how did Scorpia do this? The branch looked like it could snap at any minute, and Catra didn't like her odds of getting out unharmed if it did. 

“Cool, mind if I get with her?” Lonnie asked, a strange look in her eyes. 

“Nah,” Catra spat, but couldn't say anything more. Something inside her screamed  _ Yes, I fucking mind _ . 

“Alright,” Lonnie cackled, “Calm down. I’m playin' around.” Catra clenched her eyes.  

“Right.” If only it was funny. If Lonnie was funny, they would never have come here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp there ya go. that's the chapter. Thank you for reading. Feel free to leave a comment telling me what you thought. Constructive criticism is always welcome! :)
> 
> Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/56t95KQ8tVNZku3MkBm9ev
> 
> My Tumblr: urmomsstuntdouble.tumblr.com


	8. | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> college. wow. it certainly is. a time. anyway have this it's shit but at least it's long and sometimes gay

Not quite an hour passed before Scorpia returned. She  was unaccompanied , and walking fast. Catra didn't notice until she reached the tree, which may have been a good thing. Scorpia was not pleased, and to see the beginning of a glare on her face was startling if you’d never seen it before. 

“Hey, Catra, can I talk to you for a second?” She asked upon reaching the tree. Catra, with her head in the upper branches, nodded. 

“Say your thing.” 

“Um, okay. So, I was talking to Darla-”

“A bitch!” Catra chimed. She still hadn't bent down. At the moment, her arm stretched as far as possible to reach a particularly elusive peach. 

“Not  really ,” Scorpia sighed. “But, anyway, she told me something…important. And  I think you know.” Catra glanced down over her shoulder. Tree branches blocked most of her face, but not even that could hide the cautious look in her eyes. It was different from usual. Catra rolled her eyes, wondering what Darla might’ve said.  It better be good, she thought, climbing down a bit. She sat on the lowest branch. For the first time, she was taller than Scorpia. Amusement played with the corners of her mouth, although she made an effort to keep a straight face. 

“What? I’m busy.”

“She, well. She said she’s  pregnant ,” Scorpia whispered, “And she says its your fault. And, you know, I said that’s impossible, ‘cause you’re a girl, but then she told me-” 

“Okay, listen,” Catra cut her off, “Here is the truth: She asked me to get her a safe space to have sex. I did that, and nothing more. I. Did. Not. Get. Her. Pregnant! Its her own damn responsibility if she is, and I fuckin-”

“Okay, I hear you. But she’s, like,  really scared, and she’s looking for some help. And… I think you owe it to her.” Catra scoffed. She didn't owe Darla shit. She didn't owe  anyone shit! Besides, what did Scorpia know? She wasn't involved, she didn't know! 

“We’re all scared!” Catra shouted, “We’re all fuckin- Fuckin stuck here, and we’re all fucked when we get out- I, I don't have any money, and I’m lucky! Darla can't have a baby, but she had sex anyway! It's her mistake, not mine!” 

“Okay, I get what you’re saying, but it was a mistake! Don't you think people deserve to make up for their mistakes?” 

“Well, yeah,” Catra mumbled, “But its so stupid!” Scorpia raised an eyebrow, and shifted her weight to one side. 

“So?” Catra struggled for something to say, lips flapping, but she had nothing. All she managed to produce were individual letter sounds and awkward half-phrases. 

“Fine, you’re right,” She snapped after a moment, “It’s…I don't…” What was the expression? The more people involved, the more dangerous something became? And what did Darla even want her to do about it?  She bet there was some voodoo abortion magic, but then they had to get the materials necessary to perform voodoo abortion magic . And it wasn't like they could go anywhere to buy supplies, either. They couldn't do anything! 

“What exactly do you think we can do about it, though?” Scorpia’s eyes went blank. She bit her lip, and repeated Catra’s dumb stammering before she spoke. 

“Well, um…We could tell Mara…”

“Are you stupid?! We can't tell anyone!  Ugh, I’m gonna get in so much trouble…” Catra dragged one hand down her face, hyper aware of how the fat on her cheeks moved with her palm . 

“Hey, hey, its gonna be okay,” Scorpia said, “We can fix this!” Oh, that was new. Catra had never been part of a ‘we’ before. At least, not like this. A partner in crime, so to speak. There was definitely a ‘we’ with Adora, but it felt different. Sometimes Catra doubted the existence of the ‘we,’ but now? The ‘we’ was pretty blatant. And she didn't even notice it forming. She’d have to pay better attention in the future.

“How?” 

“Um, well…I don’t know.  Pretty tricky situation…” Scorpia brought her right hand to her face, picking at the skin around her lips . It also brought her cast into the range of Catra’s nose.

“Don't do that,” Catra muttered, “Your cast smells like shit. Get it out of my face.”

“Oh, sorry,” Scorpia said, and dropped her hand. “You know, its healed by now. I’m  just waiting to go back to the hospital.” 

“Oh! Hospital!” Catra shouted, “Perfect! Get Darla some drugs when you go!” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You want me to steal abortion drugs from a hospital when I’m getting the cast off? I mean, not that I don't want to help, but…Sounds difficult, no?” Of course, she was right. Stupid Catra. “And, not to be defensive or whatever, but what if they extend my sentence? Oh- They could send me to a real prison. That- That would not be fun.” 

“No,” Catra agreed, “But what else can we do? I’ve never had to deal with this shit before.” 

“Hey, if y’all are gonna stand and talk, d’you mind doin’ some work while you’re at it?” Lonnie asked, “Also, I got an idea.”

“This doesn't concern you,” Catra spat. Lonnie scoffed, crossed her arms, and leaned against the tree. 

“It’s gonna concern everyone if you keep talkin’ so loud. And  I think its a pretty good idea.” 

“What is it?” Scorpia asked, her voice quieter than before. 

“Either of you know how to drive?” Lonnie asked, a smug look on her face. 

“Yeah,” Scorpia said, “But it’d be hard to get the car keys. I guess I could hotwire it. Why?”

“Hold up, what?” Catra said, “You know how to hotwire a car?” Scorpia nodded. 

“Yeah! I taught myself how to drive when I was 14, and God knows my dad wouldn't approve, so I also had to learn how to hotwire, and-”

“Who are you?” Lonnie asked. Her eyebrows were almost in her hairline, and a faint smirk played with her lips. Catra agreed with that expression, except she didn't smile.

“Oh, I’m sure its a lot more boring than you’re thinking,” Scorpia mumbled, blushing, “See, when I was born-” 

“Don't need that much backstory,” Catra said, adding  At least not right now in her head . “What’s important is why Lonnie’s idea needs driving.” 

“Right,” Lonnie said, her face returning to normal. “So, goin’ off your hospital idea. Why not go to a drug store? Steal a bunch of birth control, baby killin’ pills, that stuff. In the middle of the night, though, ‘cause then Mara won't notice.” Catra had to admit, that wasn't a bad plan. 

“Not bad,” She said, “How messy is hotwiring a car?” 

“That…Depends,” Scorpia muttered, “It would be easier to steal the keys, though.” 

“I don't know about that,” Catra said, “‘Cause then we have to sneak past Mara. Its like, ten times more likely we get caught.” 

“You mean a hundred percent,” Lonnie quipped, “But that ain’t correct either. Anyway, no time for math. Scorpia, can you hotwire the car?”

“I guess. Um, yeah. Yes, that is a thing I can do. Uh-huh.” 

“Great, so…That’s what we’re doing, then,” Catra said.  She couldn't help but grin- Every time an adult pushed something about reform, another law  was broken right under their nose . And their plan was in violation of at least four state laws.  God, I can't wait to tell Adora about this. Except Adora would never approve, and she’d try to talk Catra out of it, and think the entire situation was stupid. It  was stupid, but doing nothing about it wasn't any more acceptable. Catra knew exactly what would happen if Darla’s baby ever had the misfortune of being born.

“Damn,” Lonnie muttered, “This is stupid.” 

“Yeah,” Catra sighed. They shared a look, and both of them knew what had to be. Babies were more trouble than they were worth. “So who’s gonna tell the whore?” 

“Rude,” Scorpia mumbled under her breath, “I will, I guess. Since she hasn't decided she hates me yet.” Catra rolled her eyes. Nobody could hate Scorpia, she was too nice. Shit, it was  probably a federal offense. 

“Cool,” Catra muttered, “So, tonight?” Scorpia nodded, half smiling. She bounced a little, turned around, and jogged off to wherever Darla lurked. Her arms flailed to the sides, which was more than a little bit puzzling. How did someone wind up with muscles like that and not know how to run?  Maybe she didn't like cardio. That was a weird thought. Catra didn't work out much on the outside, but she knew you had to run a lot to stay thin. Well. Scorpia was more thick than thin, so  maybe she didn't run. That would make sense. Didn't you have to eat, like, a lot of meat when you were bulking up? Catra shuddered at the thought. 

“Catra.” Lonnie poked her in the ribs, “You payin’ attention?” 

“Hmm? Yeah, what do you want?”

“Many things.” Catra blinked “But we gotta get back to work. You can stare at her butt later.” Heat dripped down Catra’s ribs, the hairs on the back of her neck stood tall. 

“Dude, s-stop.” 

“Stop what?” Lonnie asked. She squatted beside a basket of peaches, tapping each one with her finger. “We’re gonna need another basket.”

“Stop- You know.” She fought to keep the whine out of her voice, and only  partially succeeded. 

“Stop doin’ my job?”

“Don't be a dick,” She scoffed, “I don't know why I talk to you.” 

“You ain’t got anyone else,” Lonnie muttered, “Like how you got friends at school, but only 'cause you have to be there.” Catra rolled her eyes and climbed back up the tree. If Lonnie said anything else, she didn't hear it. Blood crashed past her ears as she searched for peaches.  You can stare at her butt later . The audacity…It was  just \- It was stupid. Besides, this was the worst place you could pick to catch feelings for someone. She was smarter than that. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Catra announced, setting her cards down. “I’ll shank you if you cheat.” Lonnie rolled her eyes, and rested her chin on her hand. 

“Alright, enjoy your  shower , Catra,” She said, pronouncing each syllable on its own. Catra stuck her tongue out, and stood up. They sat in a circle on the porch, everybody’s skin stained gold by the dying sun.  Black hair became darker, and the distinct shades of brown and blue and green eyes became more pronounced . Catra wondered what the golden hour did to her face.  Probably nothing good, on account of her curly hair and heterochromia. 

She started away, towards the lakeshore.  In order to not go blind, she had to stare down at the grass. The lovely, golden-green grass that came up to her ankles.  She was thankful her work boots were taller than the grass, for she despised the tickling of grass against her skin .

Upon reaching the showers, Catra debated whether she should actually get in.  She was to meet Scorpia here before they snuck away, but it would be a tad suspicious if she stood next to the showers  fully clothed . Like she was up to something.  The thing about showering, though, was that it demanded nudity, and for Scorpia to come upon her naked was not something she needed right now .  Thankfully , there was no one else showering at the moment. That would be a whole different layer of awkwardness. 

Catra glanced up at the sun  periodically , waiting for it to dip below the trees in the distance. She squelched her boots in the mud, and tried to remember the words to a song stuck in her head. So far, all she had was the melody- Peppy, not quite obnoxious. She hummed out the  portion she had in her head, off key, and stomped her foot in the mud along to an imaginary drum beat. 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” She sang, eyes sliding shit. It was something overplayed, not her taste in music. Sweet, meaningless lyrics- Scorpia would know, she was into shit like that. With any luck, Mara’s car had a decent radio. 

Catra spun around, grasping for the words of the song. She remained empty handed. Now facing the house, she spotted a figure making its way down the hill. Tall, white hair, and if she squinted, it had a cast on one arm. A grin forced itself onto her face, and she had to stuff her hands into her pockets to keep herself from waving. What kind of pussy shit was that? 

“Hey,” She muttered, when Scorpia reached the bottom of the hill. “‘Sup?” 

“Hi!” Scorpia said, cheeks flushed. Catra rolled her eyes, “You’re not gonna believe the conversation I  just had. So Glimmer-” 

“Fuck Glimmer,” Catra grumbled, “She’s a bitch.” 

“What happened between you two, anyway? I mean, you seem like you hate her.” 

“It’s what she deserves.” 

“ I don't think anyone deserves to  be hated ,” Scorpia said, “What did she do to you?” Catra shrugged. 

“I’ll tell you in the car.” 

“Oh, yes! Let’s go!” The pair made their way up to the car in silence, following the lakeshore to the tree line. Her own heartbeat filled Catra’s ears, and despite the heat of the sun, gooseflesh covered her arms. They were doing this. And she could never tell anyone, lest she risk  additional time Exhilaration. 

Her hand bumped against Scorpia’s, and she almost concealed her jump. 

“You good?” Scorpia asked. Catra nodded hard enough to send shockwaves through the back of her head. 

By the time they arrived at the car, the sun was almost gone and everyone was inside.  Catra watched Scorpia fiddle with driver’s side door for a few minutes before she jumped back and balled her left hand into a fist .

“Shit!” Scorpia hissed, and brought her hand to her lips. Catra smirked, crossing her arms. 

“You good?” Scorpia nodded. 

“Yeah,” She mumbled, “ I think I jammed my finger.” She held out her hand, and there was definitely something wrong with her pointer finger. It was already turning blue. 

“Jesus. What’d you do?” 

“The best way to break into a car like this is to get the window open, but you need, like, a poker or something for that, and I was trying to use my fingers-” 

“Okay, who are you and how do you know all this shit?” 

“Well, my parents didn't  really parent. My mom is Korean, you see, and she had to go back there when I was little. And my dad didn't like that at all. So now he’s trying to be a rock star and pretending he doesn't have kids,” Scorpia said. For once, she wasn't smiling. It was unnatural. Catra mimicked her frown, and sat down on the hood of the car. 

“That’s fucked.” 

“I guess. Anyway,” Scorpia said, and returned to the window. After about twenty minutes, the car made a popping sound. Scorpia grinned, and opened the door. 

“After you, m’lady,” She said in the worst English accent Catra had ever heard. She hopped off the hood, faked a dramatic courtesy, and crawled into the passenger seat. Scorpia climbed into the driver’s seat, and it was another half hour before the car hummed to life. 

“Still got it,” Scorpia mumbled, grinning. It wasn't the sort of grin meant for others to see. Catra wondered if she should look away, but didn't. “Alright, let’s get going!” And they were off. Catra grinned stupidly- She looked like the Joker or some shit- and turned the radio up, full blast.  -bet you gonna ambush me. You'd have me down, down, down on my knees. Now wouldn't you, Barracuda?

“Oh, I love this song!” Scorpia chirped, nodding to the beat as they sped through the trees. 

“Let’s fucking go!” Catra shouted, rolling down her window. She glanced over at Scorpia, and they both broke into giggles.  We’re stealing a car! We’re running away and stealing a car! She wanted to say, but all that came out was laughter. Scorpia knew what she meant, though. She said the same, through her eyes and laughter like a melody. 

Two hours in. They hadn't spoken much yet, and Catra could see the tiredness in Scorpia’s eyes. She sighed, breathing out as though she was releasing smoke from her mouth. Artificial light flooded the car, faded into blackness, and flooded again. Catra rested her chin on her knees, staring through the windshield. She registered shapes and colors but couldn't  be bothered to pay attention to what they were. It was rather good she wasn't behind the wheel- She would’ve passed out by now. God, how did she manage to stay up so late every night on the outside?

If she could say one good thing for getting arrested, it would be the amount of sleep she got. Curfew was nine on weekdays, ten on weekends, and they woke up at five thirty each morning. Given that pretty much everything in her life sucked ass, she favored sleeping early. Catra didn't usually remember her dreams, and when she did they were nightmares. Even so, the less time she spent awake, the better. 

“How are you still driving?” She mumbled after a while, “Must be, like, almost midnight or something by now.” Scorpia shrugged, not taking her eyes off the road. 

“Guess you could say I’m used to it. I have three younger siblings, and boy, are they overactive at night! My youngest brother has, like, endless energy. Its crazy.”

“But-” A yawn interrupted her, but Catra forced her way through it. “But you’ve been here for like a year. Doesn't that change your internal clock or some shit?” 

“I don't  really like sleeping.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well…I don't usually have time,” She said  slowly , “‘Cause, you know. Crazy younger siblings.” Catra snorted, and turned away from the road. Once again, she stared at Scorpia’s jawline in envy. 

“Sounds like you’d want to get as much sleep as possible. Annoying little fucks-”

“I was pretty much their mom,” Scorpia said, “After our mother went back to Korea and our dad decided to be a rockstar- Which is putting it  liberally . And who is his music even for? His band’s name is Between The Locks and Me- What does that mean? You know? But don't tell him I said that, 'cause he'd get mad.” Catra pulled her knees closer to her chest. As if she’d ever meet Scorpia’s dad. As if they’d ever see each other again after getting out. 

“You were their mom,” Catra echoed, “What’s that like?” 

“Oh, um…Not as glamorous as you’d expect. Heh. I pretty much worked all the time. Until I got arrested, which is a whole different thing, but yeah. Enough about me. What was your life like on the outside?  I feel like I know you, but also like you’re a total. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Catra murmured, shifting her legs. “I don't know. What do you want to know about me?” 

“I don't know. Uh, what are your parents like?” Catra snorted. 

“Dunno.” 

“How can you not know? Were you adopted? Oh, that must’ve been hard.”

“Eh,” Catra said, “Certified foster kid. My parents…weren’t in the picture. But fuck my foster dad. He’s  nearly gotten me arrested so many fuckin’ times.” Though her eyes remained on the road, Scorpia’s face scrunched in disgust. 

“That’s terrible! What happened?” Catra almost didn't mind the concern in her voice- It was still confusing, though.  Surely Scorpia had her fair amount of arrests? Her arrest occurred at fifteen, so it was a crime for her to drive…And it was illegal for anyone to steal cars. Jesus, who exactly was she sitting next to? Catra had lived with strangers before, but never stole a car with one.

“He’s a drug lord,” She admitted. It was only the second time she’d said it aloud, but as soon as she did, she felt more words forcing their way from her mouth. “If you wanna buy drugs in New York, he’s your man. Every dealer gets their shit from him. He’s got people everywhere, sellin’ anything you want. And I carried it all around for him. ‘Cause nobody suspects a little fuckin’ kid. I must’ve been…Around ten, eleven years old when he picked me from the foster home.” Catra laughed  darkly . “Didn't even know how to ride the subway yet.” 

“Oh my God, that’s so fucked up. Jesus, Catra. That’s, like, a whole different level of illegal. Are you okay?” She shrugged. 

“I’m  just dandy.” Not a falsehood. She didn't know why, but talking about all the shit in her life actually felt sort of good. 

“Are you sure?” Scorpia took her eyes off the road for a moment. They were wide and concerned, and Catra couldn't help but give a half smile. 

“Fuckin’ peachy, sweetheart. Yourself?” 

“That’s- Ugh. That’s not okay!” Scorpia pouted, eyes back on the road. “Do you want me to fight him for you? Cause I will. And I’ll win.” 

“My knight in shining armor,” Catra purred, and let her eyes slide shut for. Opening them required the might of someone driving uphill in a snowstorm. 

“Oh, um. Thanks,” Scorpia said. They fell back into silence. Catra fiddled with the radio, skipping from Queen to Soft Cell to Motorhead before turning it off. They went about ten minutes before she turned it on again.  I need someone to show me the things in life that I can't find. I can't see the things that make true happiness, I must be blind. Make a joke and I will sigh and you will laugh, and I will cry. Happiness, I cannot feel and love, to me, is so unreal . 

They took an exit into Utica. Even from a distance, the city glowed. Bursting with colors and lights, a practical haven. Catra put her window down and stuck her head out. The wind from the highway could’ve torn the flesh from her cheeks, yet she grinned. Air filled her lungs, moving them without her permission. She cared not for the tangled mess her hair would become or the windchill. All she felt was a childish sense of glee. It wasn't New York, but it was a city, and that was good enough for her. Adora had once mentioned becoming a farmer, but Catra couldn't see the appeal. After having spent a month at the White Orchid home, the idea was even more unattractive. Never seeing another shovel or barn or even a fucking fruit tree would be fine with her. 

Eventually , Catra returned to the car.  She combed her fingers through her hair a couple times before giving up and committing herself to the pre-dreadlock lifestyle . 

“Should I shave my head while we’re here?” She joked. Scorpia snorted. 

“No. Your hair is beautiful.” 

“Oh. Um. Thanks, I guess,” Catra mumbled, drawing her knees back to her chest. She bit her cheek, confused. Beautiful? She wasn't beautiful. Must’ve been a mistake. 

“But don't let me stop you. You’re your own person, you know? Shave your head if you want.” The car turned off the highway. 

“Can you stop being so nice for one second? Its gives me a fucking migraine,” Catra whined, and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry!” 

“The world doesn't end if you’re a dick!  Seriously , you didn't even have to come on this stupid drug run. Why are you even here?” 

“‘Cause I want to help you!” 

“Why ? ” Scorpia shrugged, shrinking in on herself. 

“‘Cause I like you. You’re, you know. Neat.” Catra choked on her breath. Heat filled her chest, boiled behind her eyes. 

“ Why ?!” 

“‘Cause I do! I know its dumb, okay? I  just , I don't know, wanna protect you? Sorry if it offends you, but that’s- That’s how it is!” Catra swallowed a lump in her throat. She rubbed her eyes, hugged herself. 

“I don't- I don't understand.” The silence following her statement seemed to drag.  Catra resigned herself to looking out the window, eyes peeled for pharmacies and Open 24 Hours signs . Most storefronts were dark, most sidewalks empty. It was an hour before they stumbled upon their first open CVS.  Hallelujah , Catra thought. The longer they stayed quiet, the louder the silence rang. The more time passed, the weirder Catra felt. Like she was having an allergic reaction. 

Scorpia parked the car  just out of view of the CVS. 

“You better go in alone. ‘Cause, um, I’d have to redo the car, and you know-”

“Yeah,” Catra nodded, although she still didn't move.  She scanned the depths of Scorpia’s eyes for anything other than their dumb mission, but found nothing . Meaning was hard to find in black eyes at night. So she cleared her throat and turned around to open the car door. 

“Wait,” Scorpia murmured, her voice  barely audible. 

“What?”  In lieu of responding, she ran her fingers through Catra’s hair. She shuddered, goosebumps crawling up her arms. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the  fuck . Scorpia twirled a chunk of hair between her fingers, and lifted it to the side, covering Catra’s right eye. She allowed her hand to linger against Catra’s cheek, and she couldn't help but lean into it. Scorpia drew her hand back, and Catra prayed her eyes weren't the size of saucers. 

“Um,” Scorpia cleared her throat, “Now you can't see your blue eye. They won't be able to identify you now.” 

“Oh,” Catra murmured. How was it possible that one could be on fire and shivering at the same time? She wouldn't mind pursuit of the feeling, but believed herself above the activity. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Scorpia murmured.  Catra listened to the echoing of her heartbeat a moment longer before scrambling from the car and into the CVS . Jesus, she was getting dull. Too much time spent sweeping and shovelling manure in that damn barn. Yes, that was it. Right, time to focus. The store was empty, as one would expect for this time of night. Catra paced around the store, fiddling with the ends of her hair as she searched for the pharmacy section. Shit, what was she even looking for? 

One cashier was sat at the teller, smoking and reading a magazine. Catra doubted the girl even noticed her walk in. Her eyes darted around the store for cameras. How suspicious must she have looked? Her boots  were scuffed and stained- In fact, she’d bet there were muddy footprints in the passenger seat of Mara’s car. The pants were a little better. Semi-well fitted khakis, loose around the waist. She tugged them up, and they immediately fell down around her hips. The hems were a darker brown, and the knees had permanent green-brown splotches. Worst off was her shirt. It had once been white, but was now stretched and stained by sweat, dirt, and grass. She shivered in the frigid air conditioning, goosebumps covering her bare arms. Were stores always this cold? 

Hugging herself, Catra paced through aisles of magazines and lotion and junk food. It had been so long since she had a bag of chips, or a cookie, or read anything other than one of Carol’s books. The usual pervasive hunger she experienced when presented with such items was absent. How odd. 

She turned a corner into a makeup aisle. She debated getting Scorpia a present. To thank her for driving all the way to Utica in the middle of the night. But she didn't know what Scorpia would want, so she continued walking. At the end of the aisle, some sample brushes sat out next to a mirror. When she passed, she couldn't help but gawk at her reflection. 

Who was that girl with the sun-bleached hair and freckles? Who was that, with the jawline and sharp cheekbones? Her name was not Catra Driluth. She glanced around the store once again for security cameras, and pulled her hair away from her face. Her own mismatched eyes stared back at her. The blue didn't fit with the rest of her face, but when she covered the brown one with her hair, it changed her entire face.  Maybe her sun-bleached hair was as dark as it got,  maybe her tan was fake. Who was that girl? What was her name? 

Catra  eventually had to break eye contact with herself and cover her blue eye again. Still in awe, she glared into the mirror and marched around the corner. As if a mirror was capable of feeling stood up. At long last, she arrived at the pharmacy section. She read the labels on every bottle she could see, stuffing one down her pants if she thought it’d be useful.  A slight bulge in her groin developed after two bottles, and she  nearly burst out laughing when she noticed .  Ha, penis. Stupid. 

By the time she got to the end of the pharmacy aisle, her eyes tired of reading the tiny print. Whether it killed her baby or not, Darla was gonna go on one funky trip. Catra would be jealous if she was into that sort of thing. 

On her way out, Catra kept her eyes straight. She couldn't risk 

jostling the pill bottles, lest the cashier take note. Her heart beat in her throat, and it put a smile on her face. The sliding doors slid open before her, and she thought,  Yes! I did it!

“Yo, hold up,” a voice said from behind. Instinctively, Catra turned around. The cashier stared straight at her, and their eyes met for a moment. Brown on brown, confusion on apathy. Catra’s lips quirked into a grin, and she took off running out the door. Her feet pounded on concrete as she sprinted across the street. 

“Hey! Hey, get back here!” Catra didn't listen. She clenched her thighs around the bottles in her underwear, pulse like thunder. Upon reaching the car, she hopped up and slid across the hood. It was cool for about three seconds before she fell off the other side and stumbled onto the sidewalk. She got to her feet, and the cashier was at the yellow lines splitting the street in two. Catra raised both middle fingers above her head and slid into the car. 

“Go, go, go! Come on, dude!” She yelled, pulling the pills out of her pants. Scorpia didn't need to  be asked twice, and swung the old clunker around so fast Catra banged her head off the window. 

“Sorry!” Scorpia squeaked, still spinning the steering wheel. Catra grinned, eyes flickering between Scorpia’s determined gaze and the climbing speedometer. 

“Hey,” She breathed, “High five.” Scorpia glanced away from the road long enough to slap Catra’s raised palm. 

“Woo-hoo,” She said, “Can you put your seatbelt on?” Catra snorted. 

“Fuck seatbelts. We’re real criminals now.” 

“Um, we’ve been real criminals this whole time. I mean, I guess not, since we’re under eighteen, but burglary is still a felony, and-” 

“Well, yeah, but this? What do they call stealing a car? Grand theft auto?” Scorpia nodded. 

“I don't know if its a felony, but its definitely illegal.” Their eyes met over the center console, and the pair burst out laughing. 

“Shit, man,” Catra giggled, “Welcome to the big leagues.” She felt the urge to press her nose into Scorpia’s shoulder, but they were too far apart for that. Besides, who did that? 

The drive back felt shorter than the drive out. They spent much of it in conversation about useless and irrelevant things. Scorpia had plenty a rambling tale of her time working at a Chinese restaurant.  Occasionally , she coaxed out a story with meaning, rather than  just dumb shit about Adora. 

“Sounds like you  really care about her,” Scorpia said after hearing the story of Adora’s twelfth birthday party . 

“Yeah,” Catra sighed. She blinked, her eyes burning. “She’s also a total dick. Fuckin’ abandoned me, right when we started high school.” 

“That’s the worst,” Scorpia mused, “Never been to high school myself, but middle school was…It was not good.” 

“No,” Catra agreed. “I guess I’m not good enough for her. Which is fine, I mean, ‘cause she’s a controlling bitch, but a warning would be nice. Like, hey, Catra, I’ve decided you suck. I’d be fuckin’ pissed, but that’s fucked up, right? Like, you’d  be pissed if I stopped talking to you one day, right?” 

“Yeah,” Scorpia said. “C-Can I tell you something, though?” Catra nodded. “I…I never  really had friends before coming here. So. Uh, I guess I wanna say thanks for being my friend?” 

“Yeah,” Catra mused, staring at the empty highway before them. She hoped they made it back before dawn. “And, uh…Th-Thanks for being mine, I guess.” She could feel Scorpia’s eyes burning into the side of her face.  Keep your eyes on the road, dumbass , she wanted to growl, although she kept putting it off. A warm sensation filled her chest, and she allowed it for a couple bars of Gary Numan’s  Cars before saying, 

“Watch the road, dumbass.” 

“Right, right, sorry. That’s  just \- Wow! I mean, wow. Sorry. You know,  I think you’re the first person to ever tell me that? I don't know. That's  probably dumb.” Catra shrugged. She preferred not to think about this sort of thing. Difficulty ensued with processing the negative emotions- Which were inevitable, in her experience. 

“It’s not dumb,” Catra yawned. Jesus. Who knew delinquent homes could make a person so soft? Blocking out the sappy stuff got harder the longer she spent here. If she was counting right, though, she’d been awake for nineteen hours. That could make anyone tired, even on the outside. 

“Oh, well…thanks, I guess. And thanks for taking me with you. It was fun.” 

“Taking you with me?” Catra echoed. She hadn't thought of it like that. Scorpia was pretty fucking vital to the operation, seeing as how she could drive and all. 

“Yeah,” She said, “It was…you know, nice. Inclusive. And, um. I appreciate it. So, uh, yeah, thanks!” 

“Shut up,” Catra said, not a fan of the direction this conversation was heading. “Don't go getting all mushy on me yet. We still gotta get back, remember?” 

“Right,” Scorpia said. They next spoke when the sky was a deep, pre-dawn blue and the car rolled to a stop before the White Orchid home. She took a couple minutes to hide evidence of hotwiring the car, and rolled up the windows. They locked their doors and got out, Catra stuffing the pill bottles down her pants again. 

“Wow,” She mumbled, “We  really did that.” 

“Yeah,” Scorpia mused, “It was fun.” 

“Who cares about fun? You know what this means, right? We could, like, run away. Be free.” Scorpia grinned, but raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, yes, that sounds great. But what- You know they’d put out, like, a warrant for your arrest or something, right?” 

“I’m already a wanted woman,” Catra joked, leaving the thought at rest for now. Exhaustion became her, but sleep would be a blessing at this point. “Come on, let’s go inside.” She bounded up to the front door of the house, each step rattling. Unfortunately, the door  was locked when she tried it.

“Oh well,” Scorpia sighed, “Guess we’re locked out.” 

“Of course we are,” Catra groaned, “I’m going to the barn.” It would have been quite awful if the barn  was locked as well. Scorpia voiced that concern, but Catra informed her the barn did not have a lock. 

“Oh, well that’s good,” Scorpia said, and that was it. They climbed to the hay loft, and lounged on opposite sides of the barn. Scorpia fell asleep right away, but Catra remained awake. The wooden floor was hard against her back, and straw scratched at her skin through her clothes.  Even after she pulled the pills out of her underwear, there was no comfortable positioning for her legs . When she closed her eyes, all she felt was the rapid beating of her heart. 

She could escape. She could go back to the city, see Adora again. Be happy. The thought was almost enough to make her get right back in the car and speed away. As if doing so wouldn't kill at least five people. Despite his obscene wealth, her foster dad didn't have a car, and even if he did, he’d never be the one to teach her driving. He’d forget and she’d have to learn herself if she ever moved away from the City. 

Catra curled in on herself, almost a ball. Sleep was unbecoming of her these days. Trusting a bed during the waking hours was different from trusting one at night. Her first foster mom ruined that for her. Accompanying that was the inability to fall asleep with ease. She almost envied Scorpia for her ability to sleep with such ease. Scorpia, it seemed, was an enviable person. Or envy was  subconsciously Catra’s favorite of the cardinal sins. One of the two.

* * *

 

Some people, upon sleeping  poorly , used the phrase ‘woke up tired’ to describe their state in the morning . The appeal was high, and Catra would’ve used it had she gotten any sleep.  She spent the night between sleep and wakefulness, between a conscious stream and abstract forms of thought . At breakfast, she found herself blinking more than usual to wet her dry eyes. Her hands shook, but not enough to inhibit her actions. She sipped water from a glass, kept her eyes fixed on a point in the distance. 

“You good, Catra?” Lonnie asked her, “You look like shit.”

“Shut up, I’m great.” 

“I’m serious, man. Forget eye bags, you got eye suitcases. And your hair is- Did you never learn how to tie a ponytail? ‘Cause someone like you oughta-” 

“‘M not fuckin’ stupid, Lonnie,” Catra grumbled, “Didn't sleep last night.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Scorpia chirped, “I should’ve made sure you were comfortable first before I went to sleep. Sorry. You, uh, you good though?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good! But that still sucks.” She pouted. “If you want to, like, nap at all during the day, I'll cover for you.” Catra only nodded. She had yet to learn a proper response to Scorpia’s trademark saccharine behavior.

“I need to be awake when Darla shows up.” 

“You know, I can actually- If you want, I mean…You can go sleep in your room and I can give her the stuff for you. If you want.” Catra shrugged. 

“Okay.” She could feel the veins in her head choking themselves, like thunder in her head. Not being on her feet for six hours was a splendid idea. “Th-Thanks.”

“No problem! Anything for you.” Catra downed the rest of her water in one gulp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank for reading hope ya liked lemme pimp my tumblr @urmomsstuntdouble
> 
> playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/56t95KQ8tVNZku3MkBm9ev
> 
> byee thank see you laterrrr


	9. | 1988 |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry it's been a while. the first time i wrote this chapter, it was terrible and i hated it, and i decided to rewrite. then it was 20 pages long and editing was a nightmare. but, as some say in the crossfit world, no excuses, just improve. 
> 
> trigger warnings: overdosing, internalized homophobia, catra being a dick to everyone and generally self-sabotaging.

_Fwhip. Six of hearts, face up. Catra flipped her next card- nine of spades. Fwhip. Four of hearts. Teeth deep in her bottom lip, Catra revealed her next card. The sound of her leg bouncing against the wooden chair was the aural makeup of the room. Her eyes remained trained on her partner’s. They dipped down to her pile of cards, almost as small as Catra’s. She flipped the top card, and Catra groaned. Ace of diamonds._

_Catra flipped her first card- Two of clubs. It was fine, she had three more chances. She was due for a face card anyway- She’d had a whole streak of them not too long ago. Six of spades. Alright._ Lucky number three _, she thought, and flipped the card. Five of diamonds. Come the fuck on! She couldn't lose- Even if Egyptian Rat Screw was a game of luck and reflexes, Catra didn't lose._

_Catra glanced up at her opponent, as though she was trying to read a poker face. Expressions were useless in this game, since you couldn't look at your own hand, but Catra was always down for some good ol’ fashioned intimidation. She jerked her head so a bit of hair tumbled into her eyes and glared out from under it. The other woman chuckled and righted the situation. _

_“Fucker,” She mumbled._

_“Sorry. You, uh, you look a lot prettier with your hair out of your face.” Catra smiled._

_“You always think I look pretty.”_

_“I wouldn't have married you if I thought you were ugly.” Catra’s chest bubbled with joy. This woman was her wife. Her wife! Even in the haziness of the dream, she could've died from happiness._

_“So you’re not in it for my stunning personality?”_

_“Oh, Catra, that’s not what I meant-”_

_“I’d marry me for my ass too,” Catra joked. She reached across the table and grabbed her wife’s hand. “And my superior card playing abilities.” She flipped her final card. A wave of relief sent her collapsing against the back of her chair- Queen of diamonds._

_“Alright. Even though that was_ cheating _,” Her wife said, and flipped her next card. Queen of spades. The next few seconds passed in slow motion, as Catra lunged forward to slap the pile. She was too slow. Her wife had already begun sliding the pile back towards herself by the time her hand hit the table._

_“I hate you,” Catra whined, half-laying on the table._

_“I love you,” Her wife murmured, and cupped her face in one hand. Catra rolled her eyes, but allowed the other woman to kiss her. Her mouth was warm, somehow familiar, as though they'd been kissing their whole lives._

_“I know,” Catra whispered back. She must’ve looked like such a dope. She leaned back in her chair, content to look at the person she was spending her life with. Blond hair laid against her right shoulder in a side braid, and blue- No, black- blue? She peered a little closer, and they were definitely black- eyes shimmered above rosy cheeks. _

_“Also, go.” Catra looked back down at the table. It was covered with queens of hearts. More queens than she even owned decks. _

_“The fuck?”_

_“Catra, go.” She looked back up, confused. Did she not see the cards?_

_“Are you not seeing this shit?" The queens began to pile up, and fill the rest of the room. “What- What am I supposed to do?”_

_“This game isn't that hard, Catra.” Her wife took on a sour look. She was frightening with a frown._

_“Yeah, I know, but-” Catra choked, the insides of her throat splitting open. She coughed and pounded her chest but she couldn't breathe. The more she tried, the more it hurt. Eventually, she coughed up the queen of hearts. It didn't match the rest, the ones that flooded the table and the floor. Her wife’s face stared out at her from the card, judgmental and cold. _

_“Wake up, Catra. Wake up so I don't have to be married to you anymore.” Catra yelped and slapped the card down on the table. She backed away, surrounded by the queen of hearts. _

_“I- I’m sorry,” She gasped, and slipped on cards. “I didn't mean to-”_

_“You never mean to do anything. Not when you make a mistake. You only ever mean to do cool stuff, right?”_

_“Stop!” Catra curled in on herself, and cursed herself for wearing shorts. The cards slit her thighs over and over as she backed away from the table, too many times for her to swat them away._ What did I do? _She wondered. They kissed only moments ago. The ghost of affection still played with her heart, her lips, her very soul. But she wasn't allowed to have nice things._

_“It’s you who needs to stop.”_

 

Catra thrashed into wakefulness, sweatier than she had any business being. Her breath escaped her, and her fists curled in the sheets. She scanned the room for cards, but there were none. She laid above the covers in her bed at the White Orchid Home, her clothes plastered to her skin. 

“Christ,” She mumbled, and rubbed her eyes. A headache split her cranium in two and pressure like a fire hose lingered behind her eyes, but she was awake. Which begged the question- What the  _fuck_ was that dream?! Everything about it made her skin crawl. The cards- The talking card with her supposed wife’s face- As if her waking hours weren't crappy enough. 

Catra rubbed her eyes, and glanced out the window. Golden sunlight filled the room, and outside, she could see girls at work. For the first time in months, she took her time getting ready. 

The silence was tangible as she left the house. Gentle sunlight filtered in the windows and turned dust motes to golden snowflakes. The door was smooth on its hinges and when she emerged from the house, the air was balmy. No clouds in sight. If the farm hadn't been in the way, you could put the view on a postcard. But who wanted a postcard from a juvie home? 

When she reached the orchard, it  was populated by people she didn't know too well.  Perhaps it hadn't been the wisest move to reject the making of new friends. That hadn't been why she came here in the first place, though. She scanned the orchard for familiar faces, found none appealing, and wandered further. The last row of trees grew apples. Runtish, ugly looking apples, too sweet and mushy to be any good.  Coincidentally , it was perfect for her to sulk around until Scorpia showed up to work. She did need to thank her, after all, for covering. For driving. For getting involved in Darla's bullshit. 

As if on cue, Catra’s stomach growled as she took in the sight of hundreds of apples well within her reach.  She threw an arm over her stomach and glanced around to see if anyone had heard- As it had been moments ago, the area was devoid of people . What if...Catra hardly remembered the last time she ate actual food. For at least two weeks, she’d been on a steady diet of orange juice and water. She stepped closer to a tree, craning her neck to get a good look. It was teeming with fruit, and it didn't matter how gross it looked-

No. She couldn't. She was doing so well, and she couldn't ruin that now. Not even a day ago, she’d seen proof of her  slightly de-fatted face. And besides, what would she do with the core? It was silly to think she deserved an apple. They became mocking, dangling right in front of her. Catra squeezed her eyes shut, only to visualize a crunch like teeth in an apple- Wait, no. That was real. 

She opened her eyes and glanced around for the source of the noise. The area still appeared empty.

“Who’s watching me?” She asked, accusatory. There was silence, followed by a weak groan. Catra followed the noise over a few rows, out of the fruit section, and stumbled upon the woman of the hour. 

Darla slumped against a tree, forehead shiny with sweat. Her hair hung limp in a sad attempt at a ponytail. Her knees rested on her chest and she wore a grimace on her lips. Clenched in her fists were clumps of dead leaves. 

“Darla?” Catra asked, dumbfounded, “The fuck are you doing here?” Darla’s eyes twitched, and she curled further into the tree. Anxiety mounted in Catra’s chest with the silence- And it didn't need to. She didn't care about Darla. Stupid. 

Darla’s lips parted, and she took a shallow breath before turning to the side and vomiting. 

“Shit,” Catra murmured, “What’s wrong with you?” Darla opened her eyes, thin slivers of brown peeking out at the world. 

“Did you give me poison?” She moaned. Catra shook her head, and took a knee. 

“Not on purpose.” 

“ I might be dying,” Darla mumbled. She closed her eyes again, and leaned her head against the tree. She tried to wipe the vomit from her chin onto her shoulder, but she couldn't reach. 

“What did you do?” Catra asked. She knew tons of girls on birth control, and she’d never seen anything like this before. 

“T-Took it all,” Darla coughed. Catra scoffed, and threw her hands up in the air. Of  course she did. 

“Are you stupid?! Actually, I don't know why I asked, I already know the answer.” 

“I really-” She heaved, as though she was going to throw up again, but managed to swallow it. “I can't have a baby in here.” Catra chuckled  darkly , and sprung to her feet. 

“Listen up, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this for the billionth time: If you didn't want to have a baby, you shouldn't have had sex! That’s the dumbest thing you could have  _ possibly _ done!” 

“We- We can't all be dykes.” Catra stepped back. She wasn't a dyke. She wasn't, she told herself. Even if she dreamed about marriage with a woman. Besides, had they  actually  been wives? Unclear- Playing cards was something anyone could do, whether they liked pussy or not. That would be a bad choice, anyway. Poor planning on Catra's part. 

“I- I don't know why you’d say that, since neither one of us is- You know…” Catra’s words died on her lips. Nobody cared. 

“D-Do you want help?” Darla nodded. 

“Need to go inside.” Catra helped her up and supported her weight as they made their way back to the house. Darla’s head lolled to one side, and Catra was  acutely aware of every bit of skin-on-skin contact. They were hot and sticky and being next to her put several heavy rocks in the pit of Catra’s stomach. It would’ve been easy to drop her and run away, climb a tree and never come down. But she was so close to the house, and she was no quitter. 

“I hate you,” Catra whispered. Darla stopped dragging her feet and came to a stop. 

“Who fucking cares?” She rasped. Her breath was hot and wet against Catra’s neck. Her skin crawled, but she tightened her grip on Darla’s waist anyway. 

Mara opened the door seconds before Catra would have. Her face fell as soon as she saw the girls. 

“Oh, God. Is- Are you okay?” Catra had to bite her tongue to keep herself from shouting  _She ODed on birth control!_ It was one of the dumbest things she’d ever heard, and it deserved mockery. Announcing it would open up a whole different can of worms, though, and Catra was smarter than that. 

“She fainted,” Catra lied, “She seems pretty sick.” 

“Yeah, this does look pretty bad,” Mara said, flitting around the pair like some sort of exotic bird. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Darla didn't move her head from where it rested against Catra’s shoulder. 

“Darla Reyes.” 

“Okay, Darla. What’s wrong with you? Come on, we need to get you inside,” Mara said, moving a hundred miles an hour. She supported Darla from the other side, and they continued into the house. 

“Everything hurts,” Darla whined. She stopped  abruptly and threw up bile. Catra couldn't see her very well, but she was pretty sure a few tears slid down her face. 

“That’s not good,” Mara said.  _No shit, Sherlock,_ Catra quipped in her mind. “Alright, let’s get you to your room.” Ten minutes later, Darla was in bed with a steel pot curled under one arm. Catra folded in on herself, watching Mara fuss from the doorway. Her skin crawled where they’d been touching, where Darla’s words hit her cheek. She felt naked, like everyone was ignoring it while wishing she’d put some goddamn clothes on. She pulled her hair down in front of her chest, as if it would make a difference. 

Catra's heart leapt to her throat when Mara turned to face her. 

“Thank you, Catra,” She said, “It was kind of you to help her out. You've  really improved since coming here.” Catra choked on her breath. 

“Th-Thanks,” She gasped, and glanced at Darla. 

“I know we don't know each other very well, but you already seem happier and healthier than when we met.” She put a hand on Catra’s shoulder, gave a heartfelt smile, and left Darla’s room. 

“Christ,” Darla murmured, “Next thing we know you’ll be free.” 

“Fuck you.” Catra turned on her heel and left, stomping down the hall and stairs. Passing Mara was a little awkward, but they lived. She needed to sit down, but there was nowhere good to do that. So she started running. Without thinking, she ran to the schoolhouse, threw the door open, and slammed her body into her usual seat. She ignored the whispers and forced herself to focus on the teacher's voice. If she had a hoodie, she’d have disappeared inside it by now. 

When class ended for the day, Catra was the first out of the schoolhouse. She stomped out of the room, head full of static and cotton balls.  Her body was hollow, and she was in the middle of berating herself for thinking about eating lunch when someone grabbed her arm . 

“What the fuck do you want?” She yelled, and spun around. Lonnie’s wide hazel eyes stared back at her. 

“Hey, man, calm down. You okay?” 

“I’m great,” Catra spat, and tried to turn around again, but Lonnie refused to let her. 

“You sure ‘bout that? ‘Cause you kinda look like shit.” 

“Wow, Lonnie. I thought-” Catra choked on her words. What the fuck was she doing? 

“What happened to you?” Lonnie asked, “You sick or something?” Too many words came to the front of her mind. Not one of them made sense. 

“I’m fine,” Catra said. She could tell from the look on Lonnie’s face that she didn't believe her. Fair. She didn't believe herself either. “Why do you care?”

“Think  we might be friends now,” Lonnie mumbled in response.  _Friends_ . Lonnie and Catra, friends? Impossible. Friends with Lonnie? Lonnie, who participated in stealing Adora away from her. Whose cool demeanor never ceased to infuriate. Who she’d stabbed in the shoulder with a broken beer bottle.

"You have terrible taste," Catra spat, "But pickings are slim."

“This place sucks ass,” Lonnie agreed, and they fell into an awkward silence. Catra filled it by stamping down grass until Lonnie spoke again. "If you don't mind…What’s wrong?” 

“None of your business,” Catra said.  _Everything. My life._

“A'ight. If, uh, you ever want to, though…” Lonnie trailed off. 

“I don't." 

"Okay."

Catra snorted, “Thanks, or whatever.” 

“Yeah, I deserve that,” Lonnie said. “I’m like fuckin’ Ghandi, forgiving your ass. But I ain’t stupid, so, you know.” Catra smiled, somehow. 

“...Thanks,” Catra mumbled, “How do you stave off urges to shank everyone in this stupid place?”

“I live in the moment,” Lonnie said  proudly . 

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I don't worry ‘bout what they’re thinkin,’ ‘cause it’s dumb. And I focus on my friends.” She smiled. It was shy and could’ve  been called something else in a heartbeat, but it was there.  Once more, Catra readied herself to counter the assertion of friendship- To her, calling it anything more than a forced companionship would be an overstatement . She had to admit, though, Lonnie wasn't stupid.  Maybe they were friends and Catra had somehow missed it.  Their bond was hard and thorny, forged in discomfort, but Catra could stomach the label 'frienship .'

“Why the fuck do you wanna be friends with the person who got you stuck here?” Lonnie shrugged. 

“Least of all evils,” She mumbled, “Now let’s go inside. Too hot out here for this shit.”

* * *

The conversation didn't fix their lives. It  was followed by water for lunch and stolen glances at Scorpia’s jaw as she chewed.  Nobody goes out to cause problems for themself, but Catra seemed particularly well endowed in that department . It  just sort of happened, like how flies swarmed around dog shit.  Maybe she  was broken . You’d have to be crazy to fuck yourself over with the consistency that Catra did. 

_Guess I’m crazy,_ she thought as she handed a peach down to Scorpia. She  was met with a smile that warmed her chest. Catra almost wanted to yell at her about it. What had she done to deserve it?  Literally nothing. But it would have been weirder if Scorpia hadn't been smiling. 

“You look dumb smiling like that,” Catra said, the beginnings of a smile on her own lips. 

“You’re smiling too,” Scorpia mumbled. 

“I’m cool and smart, so it’s different,” Catra said, and stuck out her tongue. 

“You sound like a five year old,” Lonnie said. Catra flipped her off and picked another peach. 

“See this peach? It’s your face.”  She spiked it into the ground, hoping for a dramatic splatter against the tree roots, but it  merely rolled off to the side . 

“Waste of a peach,” Lonnie said, “Dumbass.” 

“You look happy today, Catra,” Scorpia remarked, changing the subject, “Did you get a good sleep?” Catra paused. She glanced down at Scorpia, bit her lip. In truth, it had been kind of awesome at the start. Having someone that liked you enough to marry you was about the good-est thing Catra could think of. Even if it had been a woman. 

“I guess.” 

“That’s great! Cause, you know, sometimes I worry about stuff like that. Like, are you doing okay? And I know it’s a little cheesy, but-” 

“Spit it out, Scorpia,” Catra said, “Enough weird shit has happened today and I don't need you wasting time.” Scorpia’s eyes seemed to grow, and she took a step back. 

“Right, yeah. I’m sorry. Th-Thanks for calling me out on that, I know I, uh, ramble a lot. And I’m doing it again now. Sorry! I’ll, um, get to the point. It’s dope that we’re friends,” Lonnie raised her eyebrows  suggestively from behind Scorpia’s back. The action received a glare from Catra- Not harsh enough to deter it, though. 

“...And I care about you, you know? So, like, if you need anything like that again, it’s okay to ask. ‘Cause last night was fun, even the sleeping part.” 

“Y-Yeah,” Catra swallowed. Her heart pounded as she glanced around. How many people heard the words  _‘Cause last night was fun, even the sleeping part?_ How many would interpret that as fucking? “It…wasn’t bad.” She pretended not to hear when Lonnie mumbled something under her breath.

“By the way, did you give Darla her drugs?” Catra asked. Her fingers coiled around a branch, in preparation to pull herself higher. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“She took  _all_ of it. Made herself sick.” Catra ascended higher into the tree, though she had passed the point of peach  abundance . 

“That’s- That’s  bad. ”

“Yeah, you should’ve told her what to do,” Catra said. She wasn't sure why. Any sane person would know not to take every pill from  multiple bottles. Nobody was that stupid. Which must've been Scorpia’s train of thought, which was why she didn't tell Darla not to take everything at once. 

“I mean, I thought it would have been pretty obvious, but-”

“Have you  _met_ Darla?” Catra asked, “She’s not smart.”

“I have, actually, and I’ve known her longer than you,” Scorpia said. Catra’s head swiveled to look at her, taken aback. Both sets of eyes were wide, although the rest of Scorpia’s face said she was nervous.  Arched eyebrows, forehead lined like a sheet paper, and lips parted to reveal clenched teeth . 

“I- I’m sorry,” Scorpia said, “I don't know why I-”

“Don't. It’s fine, I  just didn't expect you to…” Catra trailed off. She tried to soften her expression, even offering a half smile. The effort had her cheeks aching, the grin she got in return made it worth it. If only Scorpia would never stop grinning like that. Her whole being lit up. Catra’s chest swelled with pride, which was gross and goopy.

“And then what happened?” Lonnie asked, shattering their fragile silence. Catra cleared her throat, and the grin dropped from Scorpia’s face. She didn't appear angered or disheartened, but it wasn't the same. 

"Found her half-dead under an apple tree. Like a  _dumbass_ ." 

“It's rude of you to call her that,” Scorpia mumbled, something Catra refused to ignore. 

“And what are you gonna do about it?” 

“Uh, well...I'll stop talking to you.” Scorpia herself winced at that, and Catra might laugh if she hadn't sounded so serious. “Er. I’d give you the silent treatment. But not forever. You know, seeing as we live together-”

“Y’all can't be ‘round each other without talkin,’” Lonnie said. “Don’t think I’d mind if you did give her the silent treatment, though. Some goddamn peace and quiet around here for once.”

“You say that like we’re not the only people you talk to,” Catra snarled down at her. Lonnie adopted a squatting position and a quizzical expression. 

“You ain’t.” 

“Name  _one_ other person you’re talking to,” Catra challenged. 

“Glimmer. Carol. Leila. Meli. Kim-” 

“So we’re the best company you’ve got,” Catra said, smirking. Lonnie rolled her eyes, and stood up. 

“Catra, you’re about the worst company I’ve ever had.” Catra glanced at Scorpia and squatted down on her tree branch. She was closer to Lonnie now, but still a few feet above her. The nature of their positions forced Lonnie to crane her neck to look her in the eye.  Over the course of the past few months, she’d spent way too much time with Lonnie, and Catra liked to think Lonnie meant nothing malicious by her words . 

“Could say the same to you, but you’re not even good enough for that.” 

“Catra-” Scorpia said, concerned. Catra shot her a smirk. 

“It’s okay, she thinks we’re friends.” By now, Catra was the only one of their little trio who hadn’t said it aloud yet. She was Catra Driluth, though, and she wasn't a sap. 

“ I think we are,” Scorpia said.

“Well, yeah, but you’re you,” Catra said, with a slight flourish of her hand. 

“Too late, you agreed!” Scorpia said, eyes crinkling as she smiled. “We need to think of code names!” Catra rolled her eyes. She conceded next to nothing, let alone agreed with Scorpia. It wasn't bad to see her excited, though. Cute, even. She  just wasn't a fan of the code names. The current state of things was enough for her. 

* * *

“Everyone sit down,” Mara said. Her stance was neutral yet the look in her eyes could make even the Navy SEALS squirm like roaches. The air in the room felt sinister, made Catra’s heart race. She obliged, sitting next to Scorpia on the unlit hearth.

Not half an hour ago, a meeting had  been called . Everyone in the home, even the assortment of non-Mara adults,  was trapped in the living room. Teenage girls covered most surfaces. Couches, chairs, even each other’s laps. How could they do that? Why- What made it okay for Kara to sit on Destiny’s lap like that? Why was everyone else okay with it? Nobody looked at them and shared whispers behind closed doors.  _It’s not fucking fair_ , Catra thought, even after the room grew more crowded and she lost sight of them. 

She brooded with her knees to her chest as she waited for Mara to start speaking, shoulder brushing against Scorpia’s arm . Rejected were the impulses begging Catra to lean against her. Comfortable, yes, but people talked. Catra heard her name, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. If her hands hadn't been gripping the backs of her calves, they’d be shaking. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Mara began, the whispers dying down. Catra rolled her eyes at that, and turned towards Scorpia.  _As if we had a choice,_ she mouthed. Scorpia gave no sign of noticing. 

“There’s something we need to talk about. Earlier today, Darla Hayes passed out. I decided to give her something for the fever she had, but we were out. As you can guess, I had to leave to aquire medicine.” Catra’s breath caught in her throat. No matter what Mara said next, it wouldn't be good. She felt Scorpia stiffen next to her.  _Shit, shit, shit._

“When I went, I found my car had been…tampered with. One of you broke into it.” A murmur rose up. “One of you broke into, hot wired, and went on quite the joyride in my car.” Catra focused all her energy on breathing. It was fine, she told herself, there was no way they could pin the crime on her. She didn't even have her license. That was good enough to protect her, right? “I’m not going to lie to you. Whoever’s at fault is in some deep shit.” Chuckles rose up at her use of a curse word. “And you will get in trouble. I’m not going to press charges- You’re already here, after all. I don't want to set you back any further than you already are. Right now, what matters is that someone is going to come clean. And until she does, we will sit here.” The room was silent. Catra could feel Scorpia fidgeting against her, and she shot out a hand to grab her bicep. Scorpia turned her head, expression nervous. 

“Don't say  _anything_ ,” Catra whispered, leaning up so her mouth was against Scorpia’s ear. 

“But-” Catra made a motion of zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key. 

Not a word, she mouthed. Scorpia glanced around the room. Whispers filled the air, but not loud enough that they could talk without worry. 

“I’m gonna say something,” Scorpia breathed against her ear. Catra shivered at the feeling, and spun around to look at her partner in crime. She gave the slightest shake of her head that she could manage, and Scorpia nodded. 

_You can't_ _,_ Catra mouthed,  _You’ll be in trouble_ _._ Scorpia shrugged. 

“Worth it,” She whispered. Catra shuddered once more as the words hit her skin. Scorpia prepared herself to stand, and Catra grabbed her wrist. 

But it was my idea . That time, she  nearly spoke aloud. Scorpia shrugged, and stood up. Catra’s hands turned to fists, and she looked away. How could she- This was fine. She  just needed to contain Scorpia until someone else cracked, and then they’d be scott free! And what did Scorpia think was going to happen to her little smuggling business if she did confess? She'd  be trapped until 1990, that's what. 

“M-Mara? I, um. I did it.” Shocked whispers came up around the room, and all eyes were on Scorpia. For once, Catra didn't go against the grain. She gaped, heart pounding. Without thinking, she put a hand on Scorpia’s leg. 

“Scorpia?” Mara asked, eyes wide. She spoke like she didn't believe it. Which was fair. Catra was there and even she was a little shocked. “Did someone put you up to it?” Chortles. Catra bit her lip.  _Please don't tell her,_ she thought.  _Please, Scorpia._

“N-No. It my idea.” Catra squeezed her calf, nails digging into the khaki of her pants. 

“What did you do?” Mara asked, still shocked. “I mean…Why’d you do it? Where’d you go?” 

“I…I can't tell you,” Scorpia said. She glanced around the room. Catra could tell she was nervous from the sound of her voice. Her throat was tight, and she chose her words  carefully . “I promise it was for a good reason.” 

“Well…Thank you for coming clean,” Mara said, “Um. Everyone to your rooms. Scorpia, with me.” The room erupted in noise.  Mostly complaints about the loss of free time over the meeting. Girls here and there sprung to their feet, Catra among them. 

“Scorpia, what the fuck?” She hissed. 

“I’m protecting you,” Scorpia whispered, turning around and bending her knees so they could be face to face. Catra grit her teeth, struggling not to punch Scorpia in her perfect cheekbones.  Maybe then she’d seem less speechless. She floundered, the words  _I’m protecting you_ tumbling around in her head. 

“I- I don't need you to protect me,” She finally stammered. 

“You do. R-Right now anyway,” Scorpia said, sounding more confident than she looked. “I don't want you to get in trouble.” 

“But it was  my _idea_ ,” Catra hissed, “You don't need to-”

“I do,” Scorpia said. She put a hand on Catra’s shoulder, and rose back to her full height. “Meet me on the porch after?” Catra nodded, hyper aware of Scorpia’s touch. Her hand was warm and large and covered almost her entire shoulder. If this were anyone else, she’d feel compelled to chew them out. If it were Lonnie, even, she could see things coming to blows. If it were Adora…She didn't want to think about it. For some reason, Scorpia was different. She couldn't summon the energy to be more than trepidatious. 

“Okay,” Scorpia breathed, and shot Catra a nervous smile. “S-Sorry, I guess. See you soon?” Catra nodded, crossing her arms. 

“I guess,” She mumbled. 

“Cool,” Scorpia breathed, “Thanks.” Catra wandered away. She sat on her bed, half listening her roommates chattering, until the sky changed colors. It had been long enough, she decided, and left. She slunk around corners, light and silent. When she emerged onto the porch, she let out a long breath. She was alone with the dusk. 

Catra tipped her head back against the wall of the house and breathed. Her hands came to rest at her sides, and she opened her lungs. Despite the lack of recent rainfall, the air was thick and humid. To breathe was to swallow a rock, only without choking. It came with discomfort, but she didn’t notice. With every beat of her heart, each pulse of blood to her brain, came Scorpia’s name.  _Scorpia_ , she wanted to say,  _Scorpia_ _._ The word stuttered through her mind, made continuous thought impossible. 

“Scorpia,” She said to no one, “Scorpia…” Catra rolled her tongue into a clover, swallowing on the empty space.  She ran a hand through her hair, frightened that if she closed her eyes, she wouldn't open them again until morning . Had it  really only been that morning that she found Darla in the orchard? That morning that she and Scorpia returned from Utica? The day’s perceived length was comparable to that of a week. And the actual week? Forget about it. The Fourth of July could’ve been part of another century. 

The door swung open, followed by heavy footfalls.  Catra raised a hand, though she maintained eye contact with the setting sun- Dimmed by clouds, and looking greener than it was . 

“Hey, Catra!” Scorpia said, a little breathless. 

“What’s your last name?”

“Dreemur,” She said, confused, “Why?” Catra shook her head, teeth already deep in her bottom lip, holding back a smile. It fit. 

“Don't worry about it.”  Scorpia gave a lopsided grin and sat down across from her, leaning against the wooden support for the porch roof . From her position, the sky was invisible.  _Big mistake_ , Catra thought, paying close attention to how Scorpia hugged her knees to her chest . Ordinary, save how she struggled to grasp anything with her casted arm. Her fingers opened and closed a few times, as if she’d forgotten her palm  was occupied by plaster.  After a couple failed attempts, she settled on pinching the fabric of her pants dragging her leg to where she wanted it . 

“Hi,” Scorpia said, “How are you?”

“Fuckin’ peachy keen, sweetheart,” Catra snarked. “What’s Mara got in store for you?” Scorpia’s face fell. Hadn't she had enough exchanging of pleasantries? They did it all day, in various flavors. 

“Well. I guess you could say I’m on probation? She, uh…” Scorpia ran a hand through her hair, “I’m not going to the farmer’s market again. For a while, at least. Which means-”

“This place is down a smuggler,” Catra finished, “Fuck.” 

“Well,  I don't think it’s all that bad,” Scorpia offered, although the pitch of her voice indicated otherwise. “I mean, it feels bad bringing in all the drugs, you know?” 

“Drugs?” 

“Okay, weed and cigarettes. But still. There’s, like, addicts here, and  I don't feel good…I want them to get better. Stop being so…dependent on drugs. You know?” She knew all too well. The response queued up in her mind was to nod, agree, stare away, and not elaborate. Casual, disaffected acknowledgement of wrongdoings, which she preferred to caring about things.

“I know.” Scorpia nodded, an almost imperceptible a shake of her head, but it was there. 

“I’m scared, Catra,” She said, “If I lose this…I don't know…”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Catra reassured her. Something strong compelled her to get up and sit with Scorpia. She didn't. She wasn't sure why she said that. Logic told her that things wouldn't be okay. And she hated when people said they would in the face of overwhelming counter evidence. “I…I promise,” She whispered. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Th-Thanks,” Scorpia said. Her face contorted into a strange expression. Big eyes, lips drawn tight, forehead wrinkled by a furrowed brow. 

“Common courtesy,” Catra mumbled. She focused on the floorboards, as if grainy wood was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Thanks for more than that. I, uh, I don't know why I’m saying this, ‘cause…Promise you won't get mad?” 

“‘M always mad,” Catra mumbled, and it was true. 

“Well, you can be…rude…But whatever, I don't even know what I’m saying. Sorry.” 

“You were saying you’re scared,” Catra said. “Without smuggling, you’re nothing. Worse than nothing, you’re a dyke.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Scorpia asked- Neither confirming or denying it- but Catra didn't listen. 

“You’re  just some dyke, and there’s nothing special about you at all. And there never will be-”

“That’s a little uncalled for,” Scorpia said, “I mean… maybe , but wouldn't it be enough to, I don't know,  just enjoy life?” 

“No,” Catra said  firmly , “Because you can't do that in a place like this. You can't. Shit’s incompatible.” 

“Well, you make me happy,” Scorpia said, “So I’d beg to differ.” Catra opened, then closed her mouth. She didn't understand. Why did she deserve that? How long had she known Scorpia? A month, tops. No way that was true already. But people on the outs? Adora? Shit, Adora had met her birth mom, and never said anything like that. It didn't make sense. 

“I…I don’t get it,” Catra whispered. “You…” 

“ I don't think you need to be a smuggler to be happy. ‘Cause, like, there’s definitely better occupations, you know? Safer ones. And  I don't think I need big risks like that to make life worth living or whatever.  I think I  just need people to love.” 

“Fuckin’ hippie,” Catra scoffed, heart racing a mile a minute as she jumped back into her old, worn-out shtick. 

“Okay,” Scorpia giggled. Her laugh washed over Catra like a warm wave. “And what does that make you?” Catra shrugged. 

“Don't know. Doesn't matter.”  Scorpia raised an eyebrow, and scooched forward until their feet occupied the same space . 

“I do.” 

“Oh? Pray tell.” 

“Someone who needs to let herself be happy sometimes.” 

The words commanded Catra to look her in the eye. As much as she’d like to look away, Catra was immobile. Immobile and  painfully aware of the heat. Sweat trickled down her back, and she breathed.  _I have to go_ _._ Hands gripped her own, in a sudden action that she also hadn't been paying much attention to. One moment, they were separate, and the next, Scorpia’s fingertips held tight to hers. She blinked, let the feeling crash over her. Scorpia’s hands were strong, calloused but not rough, and warm enough to cure frostbite. There was nothing Catra would like more than to hold her hands right back.  _I can't._

“Catra…” She shuddered. The light husk of her voice jabbed at Catra’s heart. Fuck, she was so weak. 

“What?” Scorpia blinked like honey. 

“I don't know.” Her cast scraped against Catra’s knuckles, and Catra hated that she didn't care. It was, in many senses of the word, disgusting. 

“Then why are you talking?” Scorpia’s thumb wrapped around one of Catra’s pinkies. 

“You make me want to talk.” Catra squeezed her fingers tighter. 

“Fuck, Scorpia, you can't…You can't say things like that.” 

“But they’re true.” She frowned. 

“Doesn't matter.” 

“ I think it does,” Scorpia argued, “Because, if you make me happy-”

“Stop- Stop talking,” Catra wheezed, “You need to stop. I can’t- If you keep saying stuff like this, it’s gonna- I don't know…I can't do it. I can’t  just sit here and listen to you talk about me. Fuck, this isn't even- We’re only out here in the first place because  you’re  in trouble, and-” 

“It’s fine,” Scorpia said, “You make a good distraction.” Catra groaned, and raised her hands to her temples. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” 

“Doing what?” 

“Fuckin’…" Catra scrambled for something to say, and- Oh, no, she couldn't say that...And she was already talking. "You’re, like, coming onto me or some shit, and it’s weird!” Finally, an escape. Catra wasn't sure if that was true, but it could be. And if it was, she regained control of the situation. 

“I’m- What?” Scorpia sputtered, going bright pink. “No- No I’m not.” Catra smirked, even though she felt her own cheeks heating up too. 

“Yeah, I can smell the desperation from here,” Catra barked. She stood. “You’re pathetic.” 

“What?” 

“Did you  really think,” Catra said. Somehow her voice was silk. Somehow she maintained composure. Somehow she managed to stop herself from going back on her words. “That I’d be into someone like you?” 

“I don't know,  maybe !” Scorpia shouted. She looked on the verge of tears. How Catra wanted to sit back down and…fucking, throw an arm around her or something dumb like that. 

“Newsflash,  _babe_ , but you don't know shit about me, and- and I’m ne ver gonna…feel the same…” 

“Catra…You’re being  really mean.” 

“ Maybe you deserve it!” Scorpia’s whole self changed. She stood up, forcing Catra to look up at her now. For a second, Catra contemplated stopping.  She could give up and hold Scorpia’s hands again, spend hours apologizing, and  eventually make it up...or she could do the smart thing . And she placed way too much value on being smart. 

“No, Catra.  I don't think I do.” She went inside. Catra didn't turn her head, refused to watch her go. She could feel eyes lingering on her, but refused to acknowledge it. That would make it real. That would mean she had lost a friends over nothing. 

Her knees were the first to hit the porch, followed by her ass, then the palms of her hands. Finally, tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl that was pretty rough but i think i salvaged it. what are y'all's thoughts? reactions? please let me know what you thought down below, even if you hated it! thank you so much for reading, and i hope that you'll stick around (although you're gonna need some patience). 
> 
> hmu on tumblr i'm @urmomsstuntdouble
> 
> spotify playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/56t95KQ8tVNZku3MkBm9ev  
> (comprised just of songs that would've been out at the time this was written)

**Author's Note:**

> hey fam are you excited because im excited
> 
> my tumblrs: 
> 
> paraduxks.tumblr.com (main/less fandom stuff)  
> urmomsstuntdouble.tumblr.com (slightly more fandom infused)


End file.
